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."

Sunday leisurely reading

Last week in Relief Society I taught Lesson 31, which ended up being a very overwhelming task. I'm happy to report that I survived working the DVD player and never once did my knees crumble beneath me. In my preparation for that lesson, I came across two talks that have been on my mind a lot for the last couple of weeks, and thought I might share them here for your Sunday leisurely reading. They are very much worth your time.

They have brought a measure of comfort and understanding to my heart, even confirming to my soul that some words truly can heal a wounded heart. I'm grateful for the examples of really good people who have gone through really difficult trials; for the things I can learn from them and the comfort of knowing I'm in good company. 

Here's a small taste of the first talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, given at a CES fireside last year, Lessons from Liberty Jail: 

But tonight’s message is that when you have to, you can have sacred, revelatory, profoundly instructive experience with the Lord in any situation you are in. Indeed, let me say that even a little stronger: You can have sacred, revelatory, profoundly instructive experience with the Lord in the most miserable experiences of your life—in the worst settings, while enduring the most painful injustices, when facing the most insurmountable odds and opposition you have ever faced.

Now let’s talk about those propositions for a moment. Every one of us, in one way or another, great or small, dramatic or incidental, is going to spend a little time in Liberty Jail—spiritually speaking. We will face things we do not want to face for reasons that may not have been our fault. Indeed, we may face difficult circumstances for reasons that were absolutely right and proper, reasons that came because we were trying to keep the commandments of the Lord. We may face persecution; we may endure heartache and separation from loved ones; we may be hungry and cold and forlorn. Yes, before our lives are over we may all be given a little taste of what the prophets faced often in their lives. But the lessons of the winter of 1838–39 teach us that every experience can become a redemptive experience if we remain bonded to our Father in Heaven through that difficulty. These difficult lessons teach us that man’s extremity is God’s opportunity, and if we will be humble and faithful, if we will be believing and not curse God for our problems, He can turn the unfair and inhumane and debilitating prisons of our lives into temples—or at least into a circumstance that can bring comfort and revelation, divine companionship and peace.

The second talk is by Elder Neal A. Maxwell, given more than 30 years ago, also at a CES fireside, Take up the Cross:

Just as no two snowflakes are precisely alike in design, so the configuration of life's challenges differs also. Some of our experiences are not fully shareable with others. Thus, others, try as they may, cannot fully appreciate them. They must trust us, our generalizations and testimonies concerning these experiences. A few of our experiences should not even be shared. But it is useful to ponder the past examples of our partners on the pathway. 

In the midst of some of these individualized challenges, however, we may cry out on our small scale as the Savior did on the cross, or as the Prophet did in Liberty Jail. Being in agony, we will pray more earnestly, for cries of agony are not the same as cries of despair. 

Our individual experiences may not always be unique, but they are always authentic. God will even take into account our perceptions of, as well as our responses to, our trials. For those of us who do not, for instance, find claustrophobia a challenge, it is difficult to measure the terror that comes to those for whom it is such a challenge. Thus, a friend may seem to struggle unnecessarily long before finally prevailing with regard to a particular principle of the gospel. But for that individual, the struggle was real enough! We need, particularly, to understand with kindness those who are asked o go out to do battle again on a familiar field--on the very battleground where they have already suffered defeat several times. Yet some of our most difficult victories will occur on new terrain--like Joseph's in Egypt--when we do not have the equivalent of a "home court" advantage. 

We must remember that, while the Lord reminded the Prophet Joseph Smith that he had not yet suffered as Job, only the Lord can compare crosses!

Pouring Rain

"May the sun bring you new energies by day, may the moon softly restore you by night, may the rain wash away any worries you may have. May gentle breezes refresh your soul and all the days of your life, may you walk gently through the world and know its beauty."

The rain and I share an interesting love-hate relationship. There are times when the rain seems to bring with it a heaviness that makes me wish it would just go away, and bring the sun back. There are other times when it comes and is welcomed with open arms. Lately it has been the former. But, for some reason, today it has been the latter.

This afternoon it was coming down so hard and so fast that it was immediately flooding the gutters, and I felt the strongest urge to be outside in the down-pour. Deep inside I was totally convinced that standing in the middle of a blanket of rain would surely wash away all my worries.

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.

Trailing clouds of glory...

Today my heart is full. I got a phone call early this morning from my little sister, Mandi. She was calling to let me know that she's at the hospital, awaiting the soon arrival of her first child, a baby girl. I am overwhelmed with feelings of love, joy, and excitement at her news. My thoughts and prayers are with her today as she has this most sacred experience of bringing a sweet little spirit into the world today.

I thought I'd post one of my favorite poems and a couple of my favorite quotes. Babies truly are miracles, such precious gifts from God.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting
The soul that rises with us, our life's star
Hath had elsewhere its setting
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forget fulness,
And not in utter nakedness
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God who is our home.

- William Wordsworth

About sixty years ago, F. M. Bareham wrote the following:

"A century ago (in 1809) men were following with bated breath the march of Napoleon and waiting with feverish impatience for news of the wars. And all the while in their homes babies were being born. Who could think about babies? Everybody was thinking about battles. In one year between Trafalgar and Waterloo there stole into the world a host of heroes: Gladstone was born in Liverpool; Tennyson at the Somersby Rectory; and Oliver Wendall Holmes in Massachusetts. Abraham Lincoln was born in Kentucky, and music was enriched by the advent of Felix Mendelssohn in Hamburg." (We might add, and Joseph Smith was born in Vermont, four years earlier.)

Quoting Bareham further:
"But nobody thought of babies, everybody was thinking of battles. Yet which of the battles of 1809 mattered more than the babies of 1809? We fancy God can manage His world only with great battalions, when all the time He is doing it with beautiful babies."

To quote Spencer W. Kimball on this topic:

"When a wrong wants righting, or a truth wants preaching, or a continent wants discovering, God sends a baby into the world to do it. While most of the thousands of precious infants born every hour will never be known outside their neighborhoods, there are great souls being born who will rise above their surroundings.....one mother gives us a Shakespeare, another a Michelangelo, and other an Abraham Lincoln. When theologians are reeling and stumbling, when lips are pretending and hearts are wandering, and people are running to and fro, seeking the word of the Lord and cannot find it - when clouds of error need dissipating and spiritual darkness needs penetrating and heavens need opening, a little infant is born."

Trials and Faith

I have a friend who once shared a story with me about one of her friends. So, this is the story of a friend of a friend. We'll call her Ann. Soon after getting married Ann discovered some difficulty getting pregnant, and later was told by her doctor that it would never happen. I don't know the details of why her doctor was led to believe that.

But, Ann had started to pray, telling God that she knew He could work a miracle in her life. She placed her faith in God, that He could make it happen. Well, it did. Her faith and prayers worked. There's no doubt in my mind that she finally got pregnant because her prayers were answered by God. When my friend shared this story with me, I was very touched by it. I would have moments myself in prayer where I would tell God that I knew He could make it happen for me, too, if He wanted it to.

Then, I would have questions like, why would he not want it to happen? Is there some reason I'm not supposed to have this desired blessing? Or do I not have enough faith? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not living worthy of those blessings? How low do I have to go before my faith will be sufficient?

I've since learned that having faith doesn't necessarily mean that everything will work out exactly the way I think it should. I don't want to discount the times when faith produced the miraculous results that were sought, because those really are moments of great faith. But sometimes the greatest faith comes when things continue to go wrong, and the person is able to still find reasons to keep on fighting.

I've felt some deep feelings of empathy for a couple of dear friends in my life who are struggling through some hard things right now. I watch as they continue to fight, to believe, to hope, even when all seems to be lost. Their struggles are different than mine, but I know they feel a lot of the same feelings... wanting to know where the end of their pain is, longing for the day they can find relief from the heavy-heart feeling. They may even be wondering if there ever will be an end to the pain and if it's worth it to keep on going.

I just want them to know that I love them. And that it is worth it to keep on fighting. Whatever price we are asked to pay will always be worth it in the end. The God I know is a God of mercy and great compassion. He knows the struggles of life, He knows the pain and frustration, He hears the quiet pleas in your heart... and He will bless you for the faith you show in those very dark moments.

I'm reminded of a story in the New Testament of a blind man. The disciples asked Jesus, "who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?" And, the response was "Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him." (See St. John 9:1-3.)

Sometimes we're given trials and challenges not because we've done something wrong, but so that we can be instruments for God to show His goodness. If there were no blind people, then there would be no way for God to show He can give sight. If there were no struggling people, there would be no way for God to show He can bring peace and comfort.

I am inspired by my friends who are currently at their lowest... and yet they keep getting up. They are fighting. They are digging deep for that little bit of faith that is left in them. I know it is hard. But, I know as they dig down they will find faith and strength they didn't even know they had.

When I was going through a low moment, my Dad shared this quote with me:

“Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'"

Keep on going. Keep on trying. You have people pulling for you. Your life and response to your trials strengthens my faith and inspires me to want to keep on fighting.

Divinely Guided

I spent most of Saturday doing some major cleaning. Not the normal dishes, vacuuming, making the bed stuff (although, I did that stuff, too)... I'm talking about cleaning dark corners of the house - going through things that have been sitting in the less-used rooms of the house.

I discovered what appears to be Marc's own life-time supply of his necessities - shaving gel, deoderant, breath mints, pocket knives. If we ever are in an emergency and we can't go to a store for an extended period of time, Marc will smell great! And, if I'm desperate enough I'll smell just like him. Not that he smells bad! Just that I'll smell like a man. Oh well. I guess we need to make an inventory and keep track of what we really need when we go to the store!

So, anyway, it was in the middle of finding his "treasures" that I came across this little white card - smaller than a business card - with a quote on it. In Marc's handwriting it said this:

"I believe I am always divinely guided. I believe I will always take the right road. I believe that God will always make a way, even when there appears to be no way."

- Commander William Robert Anderson

(I had no idea who this guy was, but wikipedia tells me that William Anderson was a naval office and commander of the first submarine to successfully sail under the polar ice cap surrounding the North Pole. Pretty cool, huh?)

So, anyway, I had to re-read the quote for emphasis... and then I thought back to an experience from a couple of weeks ago. I was sitting in one of my classes when my teacher brought up the idea of life being "planned out" for us. I sat back, interested to hear what others would say about it. I was sure there would be others who have seen evidence of some greater plan coming together in their lives - whether they attribute it to their religious beliefs or to some belief in "destiny."

The only vocal people were the ones who thought such an idea was silly. I was left speechless... partly because I needed more time to think through things more clearly. While I don't believe in things being "predetermined," I do believe that there are things that can only come together with divine help and intervention.

I've thought a lot about my own life since that class discussion and tried to explain away the divinely guided moments of my life and count them simply as mere coincidence. No matter how hard I try to do it, I just can't. There are things I've seen come together in such miraculous ways, that there is no other explanation except that God had a hand in it coming together the way it did.

About a million experiences from my mission alone come to mind. Italy is a sacred place to me - a place where I first became aware of the Great Orchestrator of life. The stories I could share! Unbelievable stories... except they are true life experiences.

But, perhaps the divine help I'm most grateful for was finding Marc. It was six years ago this week that we first met. On Halloween night 2001, my roommate Julianna came home and said "Marc found out today that his dad passed away... if you see him, let him know you're thinking of him." To be honest, I didn't even know who Marc was or what he looked like, even though we'd been in the same ward at Church for over two months.

Then it was a week and a half later that the same roommate informed me of Marc being involved in a very serious car accident. At this point, I thought "Holy Cow! Where's this guy's break? Is his father's death not enough?" Then, I thought of my brothers... and I thought of how lonely they would be if they were going through the same awful things being surrounded only by male roommates, who sometimes don't know how to reach out to other men during emotional times. And, I decided I was going to change that.

So, I would seek out this "Marc" at Church the next day and offer my friendship to him... and here's where the story just begins...

...to be continued... :)