Our son served an honorable mission in the Canada Calgary Mission for two full years, to the day. He came home on July 31. I don't know who clung more tightly, me or him.
This morning while getting ready for work, I started thinking about the "cool" things I've done. Here is a list of some of my coolness:
Ran a Ragnar relay (or three)
Ran a 5K (or 2 or...)
Scuba dived. In the Caymans. And Cozumel.
Had a baby without any medication at all.
Swam with dolphins.
Saw the Dodgers play.
Was the president of an organization (or two).
Earned a bachelor's degree.
Flew first class.
Sang with an exceptional choir.
Sold a story to a magazine.
Had the lead role in a play.
Visited our nation's Capital. Twice.
Visited the prophet in his office.
As I was thinking through my life for what could be classified as "cool," I thought, Huh! Those are all cool things by the world's standards, but they aren't even the most cool things I've done. So here's more.
I decided near the end of last year that this year was the year I am going to run a half marathon.
I said that in one sentence, but the truth is that that word "decided" is more than just a fraction of a second word. In fact, this particular "decide" took several months to happen. I WANTED to run a half marathon. I thought it would be COOL to run a half marathon. I knew it was possible that I COULD run a half marathon.
On the other hand, I like to eat, especially chocolate. I thought I was pretty cool without a half marathon under my belt. In order to be able to run a half marathon, I knew I would really have to work, including running and not undermining myself with bad eating habits. I knew that I would be busy with school and with work and with church and with family (as I always am), and in order to run a half, I must be willing to give up time on those other things in order to run. Every day. I also know that when you first start--and as you progress to longer distances--running hurts. I'm not really into pain much.
So, in two paragraphs and several months, I decided I wanted to run a half marathon. I started by jogging a tiny bit on my lunch breaks. I joined a gym. I went to the Oval on snowy Saturdays. I lost some weight and I got up at 5:00 a.m. and I was DEDICATED.
But you know how it goes. Now it's been 3 months, and I'm tired of getting up. And I have a cold. And my homework is piling up-up-up. And I really want that cupcake. And...and...and...
Today I had lunch with several girlfriends. The daughter of one has been working for a year in order to be in shape for a competition (toning, but very like body building). Her competition is this Saturday, and she looks amazing. It has taken a lot of mental strength for her to do what it took FOR A YEAR in order to get here. Her coach thinks she has a good chance at winning an award.
The former boss of one lost nearly 40 pounds because "It's amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it."
One has worked hard and is continuing to try to find her motivation to keep working.
I participated in the conversation, which was more about healthy choices and motivation than about weight loss, and suddenly I found myself thinking, "You know, I can totally do this!" (Remind me of that after work when I have to go for my run, since I didn't get up early this morning.)
I'm really grateful for friends who help me remember to do and be better, just because they are there.
As I mentioned last week, I have been attending an adult institute class held in our stake. Last week's assignment was to look for the hand of the Lord in our lives each day.
I will admit that at the end of the day I have been somewhat--what? Not exactly discouraged, but also not amazed, you know? Like I have thought, "Well, I saw this thing (usually something of a spiritual nature), but that's not really unusual for my life." It sounds really ungrateful to say it that way, and I am very grateful. But I guess I've been frustrated that I am unable to see some of the small things that I know must be there.
Today everything kind of culminated for me as I pondered the entire week. This will be a long post, but I felt that I should write down the things that have been opened to my understanding this week (and especially tonight). I am extremely grateful for the blessings I receive and recognize; I do try to be grateful for things all the time, but tonight my cup runneth over.
My friend, Amber, and I were talking about The Biggest Loser (of all things!). On this week's episode, the contestants had to go shopping for just $10 a day. I remembered a time when all of our children were very small, and our MONTHLY budget for all six of us was $60. We received assistance through WIC, and that helped immensely for things like milk and cheese and cereal.
But I also remembered a time when my mother-in-law, Ruth, called me. She said that her sister's neighbor wanted someone to come and pick as many peaches off their tree as they possibly could or they were just going to go to waste. The kids and I loaded into the van, along with several large boxes and buckets. We picked peaches to our hearts' content, and I literally bottled peaches every day for that entire week.
The same thing happened another year, when a neighbor invited us to come get all of her peaches. Again, I bottled for the entire week, and we had peaches for a year and some more.
Someone once called me and said, "I don't want to store these bottles any more. Do you want them?" I don't think I've ever had to buy bottles to can produce in.
Once my friend Charlotte called. She said, "I have a client whose tomatoes have been very prolific this year. Would you like some?" I think I went home from her client's house with about two bushels of tomatoes that night. Between those and what was in our garden, I bottled enough tomatoes to get us through an entire year of soups and sauces.
What struck me this week was how merciful the Lord had been to us at that time. And also, how blessed I have been this week to have this brought to my remembrance through the Holy Ghost. A two-fer!
Our Taylor was set apart as a missionary 6 months ago today--did you know that? The letter that came from Taylor this week was a little bit down and frustrated. My brain knows that he is being cared for and watched over; I know that it is important for him to learn these lessons; I know that he is and will be OK. But my mommy heart has been tender. It just wasn't that long ago that I could gather him in my arms and kiss his owies better. In the extreme, I could pull out a bandaid! :) Now he is hundreds of miles away; and even if he were here, there would not be anything I could really do to "fix" this. In fact, I would not be doing him any favors to take away these growing boo-boo's, as they are important to his progression and growth. My head knows these things, but my heart still hurts a little bit.
But, oh! how grateful I am to be his mother! I'm so glad he is where he is, doing what he is doing and learning what he is learning. I KNOW (and this is a sweet gift from our Father in Heaven) that he is being carefully watched over and guided and taught.
Spencer and I went to dinner last night, and part of our conversation was about each of our children: their talents, their personalities, the things they've taught us, the ways they've influenced each other, and their differences. We wondered about the kinds of adults they would be when they had more age and experience. We realize that they have choices to make--daily--that influence who they are becoming and who they will become.
Today I thought about the marvelous blessing that it has been to LANDON to have his sister and brother serving missions. He has shared experiences with us that help us to see that he has a testimony and is not afraid of standing for the right, often boldly. We came to know and love his friend Tanner in a special way, and I know through the Spirit that that experience--instigated and followed through by Landon--is a direct result and blessing of having missionaries serving in the field.
Plus, I got to go to dinner with my best friend! Another two-fer!
My boss's father passed away on Sunday. Most people, I think, have bosses who are meaningful in their lives only as a co-worker. My boss is a cherished friend. We have shared many sweet experiences with one another as my grandfather and his father--near the same ages--have fought the good fight and endured to the end of their mortal journeys. Like my grandpa (for whom I am also feeling very tender), Dean's dad struggled near the end. It truly was a blessing for his spirit to be released from his old, worn physical body. Still, that doesn't stop his family from aching with the loss of one so dear. And that has made me a bit heart-heavy. Again, I wish I could help to somehow ease the hurt. It is a helpless feeling. I was wishing I was more like my mom, who would be able to see something to do or know just what to say.
And then I thought, "Wow! I have a great mom!" Yet another two-fer!
It has surprised me how watching Dean and his family has played at my heartstrings in regard to not only my grandpa but also my grandma, who has been gone now for 16 1/2 years. I am incredibly thankful for the influence of these (and many other) wonderful, loving, extraordinarily GOOD people in my life. I recognize that much of who and what I am today is due in large measure to my grandparents, who influenced my parents for good in so many ways. I am so grateful!
Another sweet thing that has happened with the death of Dean's dad is that we have had the opportunity to touch. That sounds creepy or weird, but it's not meant to be. Here I have this cherished friend. We share laughter and tears (mostly mine ;) ) and spiritual conversations. But we are very careful to keep our relationship appropriate, and we never touch. But at the viewing last night and at the funeral today, we were able to hug and shake hands, just to share our love and concern for one another. And just to prove that it's NOT creepy or weird, we did that with our spouses standing right next to us. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow we will not touch--we each adore our spouses and our friendship is just that. But for a tender moment, it is sweet opportunity.
It is also a marvelous blessing to know of God's plan for our happiness and salvation. How blessed are we to KNOW that life has meaning and purpose? Extremely! We know that our associations do not end with death.
It is also wonderful to know that many of our associations did not begin with birth. Through tender and very personal experiences this week with a couple of my friends, I have come to KNOW (again through the Comforter) that these people are my spirit brothers and sisters, and we knew and loved and grew together in our premortal lives. I'm so thankful that Heavenly Father put our paths back together for a season in mortality, even though our human-year ages are quite disparate.
Tuesday night was our ward temple night, and that was a tender mercy for me. Because of things leaving my heart feeling burdened, it was absolute JOY to think that we had the blessing and opportunity to attend the House of the Lord. I am grateful that Jesus Christ is willing to take our burdens upon Him, and I am thankful that in the temple I feel the conduit to allow me enough peace and faith to actually give my burdens to Him.
I am also awed to know that in spite of my lack of full faith or my stubbornness or whatever it is, He will still love me, forgive me, and help me at every possible opportunity! How I love my Savior!
These are the big things, but there are dozens--maybe hundreds--of seemingly small things which I have noticed this week. Health, home, employment, food, adorable children, beautiful music, the scriptures, the sun (oh! how thankful I've been to see some sunshine and blue sky this week!), a good car, my family, many dear friends, covenants, laughter, reading. The list is long and amazing.
In the end, you see, I was not completely missing seeing God's hand in my life. Perhaps what is most apparent is that God is there so much, so often, so completely, that I take for granted the amazing gifts and blessings He gives me.
There. My cup runneth over.
On Sunday, November 4, my brother went to visit my grandparents. Grandpa had been basically unconscious for the past 3 days or so. The continued to give him morphine because of the terrible pain he was in. He was very weak and dehydrated. Grandma and her children had spent several nights and days on constant vigil, waiting for his spirit to leave his body. For the days before he was unconscious, he had been talking to people who were long dead, and it was clear that he had one foot in this world and one in the next.
Grandma told my brother that she wanted the boys to come give Grandpa a priesthood blessing and to be very stern with him. She felt that he needed to be told that it was time for him to let go of this life and that he did not need to worry about her. Grandma was exhausted, physically and emotionally.
So my two brothers (who live in Utah), their wives, Spencer, Ashtyn, and I went to Grandma's on Sunday night. The boys sweetly and firmly blessed my grandpa according to Grandma's wishes. We each spent time alone with Grandpa, touching and kissing him, talking to him, expressing our love. We gathered in small groups and reminisced together. There was laughter. There were tears.
We asked Mom to call us when he left, even if it was the middle of the night. I didn't sleep well, knowing that that call was going to come at any time. It didn't come during the night.
On Monday morning we have our devotionals at work. Tim B. shared his testimony of the work of temples, and it was more than I could bear. Because of gratitude and knowledge, the tears flowed freely for me, and I finally left because my sniffling was becoming ridiculous. My boss came to my desk and asked if I was OK. I was, because the tears were not despair, they were gratitude. So he said, "If you're OK, come into my office and we'll go through some things."
I'd only been in his office about 10 minutes when my headset beeped. I answered it as I always do, and my mom said, "Hi, darlin'." Her voice broke, and I knew why she was calling. Even though I was SO happy that my grandpa no longer had to be in pain, I was still very sad to know he was gone. Of course, the loss is not just mine, and I was concerned for my grandma and my mom and others. As soon as I hung up the phone I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. My sweet boss had the tissue box in front of me in no time flat, and he just stayed and let me meltdown for a moment.
A moment is really all it took. We have been preparing for Grandpa's departure from mortality for six months or more. It is a relief to know that he is pain free. It is a blessing to know that he is joyfully rejoining his family and friends who left this life earlier. It is a relief that Grandma doesn't have to worry about him any more. And it is amazing to have the gospel of Jesus Christ and the blessed peace brought through the Holy Ghost.
The funeral was held on Saturday, November 10th. There was a horrific snowstorm that weekend, yet we still had a nice turnout of family and friends. The funeral went beautifully, and I was even able to sing without a meltdown.
The interment was in the mountain valley town where Grandpa grew up. The roads were clear, but it was COLD and windy. Yet still, people came to pay their respects. The American Legion sent a contingent to give a 21-gun salute, a bugler to play "Taps," and a color guard who retired the flag on the casket and presented it to Grandma "on behalf of a grateful nation." My sister had purchased three dozen flowers so that anyone who wanted to could place a flower on the casket. The simple act of all the children placing those flowers on the casket was my grandma's undoing. She cried and cried and said, "It's so final!"
Well, it is final. But also, it isn't. Because of our Savior, Grandpa will have a glorified, perfected, pain-free body at the resurrection. Because of our Redeemer and the restoration of priesthood keys, we can be a family eternally. I'm so thankful for what we have, what we know, and the blessings that come from God.
For flowers and cards sent, for prayers offered, for phone calls and emails, for kind and loving friends, for sweet family, I am sincerely thankful.
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| Grandpa and Grandma in high school |
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| My hero AND the hero of a nation |
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| With his family |
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| Holding me |
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| The two of us |
The day Briana was born, I was the first mom to arrive in labor and delivery that day. While I labored, woman after woman gave birth, so that by the end of the day (9:19 p.m., to be precise), there were no private rooms left. So the last two of us to give birth shared a room.
The mother with whom I shared was of Latin descent. OK, she was Mexican. She left the baby in the nursery for as long as they would let her. She never had a visitor. She NEVER had a visitor. She left the TV on all day and all night. When they came to our room to fill out birth certificates, I learned that her baby was a girl named Elizabeth. But she and her boyfriend (remember how she NEVER had a visitor?) hadn't decided which last name Elizabeth would have. The night before we were to be discharged from the hospital, Elizabeth's mommy got on the phone. She must have made ten phone calls, telling people that she had had her baby and asking for a ride home.
While Elizabeth was snoozing in the nursery and Mom was watching TV, Briana and I hung out. We talked to each other (we had to do it spirit-to-spirit because Bri couldn't talk, and I can't talk to babies without crying) and to our visitors, who included Spencer, my parents, Spencer, my brother, Spencer, my brother's friend, Spencer, my sister, Spencer, my co-worker, Spencer, my visiting teacher (with dinner, of course), and Spencer. I also took phone calls from my grandparents, my parents-in-law, and Spencer.
On the morning we were going to be discharged, Spencer came early. We dressed our baby in the special going-home outfit that my grandma had had made by one of her friends. We took lots of pictures. Finally we buckled our daughter into a car seat, went to our car, and carefully drove home to become a family.
I have often wondered what happened to Elizabeth. She would be 21 now. Did her parents stay together? Did she have siblings? Is she married and/or mothering her own child(ren) now? Was she a good student? What talents did she discover? Did she look like Mom or Dad? Did she stay in Sacramento?
Also, who decided that two female spirits would come to the earth on the same day, at practically the same time, and one would not even have a definite last name, while the other would be cherished and protected and taught?
There are no answers, but I still wonder. Maybe someday I'll get to meet Elizabeth.
When our oldest children were little, my sweet MIL bought me a subscription to Reader's Digest every year. I loved that little magazine! My favorite stories were those of people who made a difference in people's lives. Sometimes they paid for things that others couldn't afford like food, dance shoes, college educations. Sometimes they just did little things they were good at, but these little things turned into a big deal: opening a free dance studio after school; teaching a class at the local school for free; allowing kids quiet study time at their table. Of course, the stories in RD were always about how someone had made a big difference by helping hundreds of kids or how they started the world's largest non-profit organization or something like that.
Spencer and I had multiple conversations about this. We'd debate (neither of us taking a side, really) on if it was better to do small things but raise a large family or if you should limit your family size and then make a difference once a week for a LOT of people. We never really reached a decision about what was best, probably because there's no answer to that.
We had our question somewhat answered for us when I was diagnosed with MS. It was clear in our hearts that we could take a risk to have one more child, but beyond that we could not risk having a family with no mother. So we had Landon, and then we were finished.
At that point in my life--I gotta be honest--I had my hands completely full. I was trying to be a good wife and mother, serve in the Church, help out in our children's school, and whatever else I figured I was supposed to be doing at that time. It was a lot, and I sometimes think Heavenly Father threw MS into our lives so that I would stop with the babies in order to remain sane. My hat seriously goes off to people with larger families than ours. I wanted more children, but I'm not sure it would have been wise for me.
For all those years, we also discussed adoption. I had no trouble with fertility, but there was something in me that told me that we would have more. Again, I didn't know how in the world that could happen. I had a houseful of little ones and we had no money to even consider adoption. We'd also had experience with fostering, and I was quite sure my heart would not survive that.
Well, our children got older and bigger and more capable, and all of a sudden (it seems) we realized that it was GREAT to have big kids. I mean, we seriously ADORE big kids. They are so fantastic! So the need in my heart to have more babies was assuaged.
As a convenient career option, I opened a preschool in our home. In planning for that, I was certified as a facilitator for Good Touch/Bad Touch, a sexual abuse prevention program for pre-K to 6th grade students. I taught GT/BT in three different schools--plus my preschool--for 6 years. There was not a year that I didn't have to call DCFS to report possible abuse of a child (including some of my preschoolers). Oh, how this would break my heart! I would cry, and Spencer would say, "Are you sure this is worth it?" I would reply, "If not me, who?"
It was during these 6 years that Spencer and I realized that I have an incredible capacity to love children, and they sense it. Spencer says I could go to a grocery store and bring home any child because they would gladly come with me. And I would love it! Children wave at me from across the store. I have full conversations with little ones when we are in an elevator or standing in line, and most of the time I do not instigate it.
This sounds like I'm bragging, but I'm not. The point is that God put me on a path to love and bless children, and I hardly knew it was happening. I am incredibly blessed to have borne 4 wonderful children; I love our nieces and nephews (and now their children) in ways I never thought possible; I have given safe harbor to dozens (maybe hundreds) of children, if only for a few hours; I can serve in the Primary and there is not one child who I don't absolutely adore.
I am convinced that those RD stories and my feelings of needing to adopt were placed directly in my path to prepare my mind and heart for the ability to love and bless all children. I hope to have more opportunities to love and teach (and learn from!!!) many more children throughout my life. Mmm. Delicious thought!
Ashtyn made this lovely vase for me. It is my Christmas gift. All four sides of the vase have some of my favorite quotes etched into the ceramic. And it's yellow, which is TOTALLY Ashtyn. Isn't it beautiful? I love it!
On Sunday my brother showed me a picture of a large vinyl sign one ward member (using the term VERY loosely here) had put up regarding another ward member. It said, "____________ was my visiting teacher, my friend, a church leader, and she committed adultery with my husband."
We live in a world where mothers get breast cancer, earthquakes and tsunamis destroy land and people, couple cannot get pregnant, babies die, extremists murder randomly, and cars won't start at the gas station--and that is just stuff I've seen in the past week.
So I'm wondering, did this woman think she was going to fix something? Did she think that hurting one person (and her family) was somehow going to make her feel better?
Seriously, I don't get it. I must be missing something, because I sincerely don't understand this. What is the thought process?
Did anyone ever read "The Secret Life of Bees"? Remember Mae, whose heart broke every time something sad happened? That's how I felt after church on Sunday. Broken-hearted. I wondered how to get through things like this. What can I do to make it better for someone?
And I had a small, personal, private epiphany. It included working on a blanket for a sweet young lady who is fighting for her child's life. It included short visits with people we love. It included prayer and introspection.
With all of the ugliness in the world, there is also a huge world of beauty, including blessed people who make a difference. I hope I am one of those people, even if my contribution is very small.
Shortly after I started working for the Church, one of the members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles passed away. His funeral was on a weekend. While there were many of our "crew" on the Temple Square campus working the funeral "event," the building was empty and quiet. I volunteered to be on campus working the telephones and radios during the funeral.
Just before the funeral was to begin, we received a telephone call from the secretary to the First Presidency. His first words, after introducing himself, were, "Bless you for taking care of us."
My boss daily uses the words "Bless you" as a phrase of thanks. It would not be meaningful, I am sure, if he seemed insincere or if the words became trite. But every time he tells me "Bless you," I am grateful, for I believe that somehow God will bless me, just because Dean said so.
And perhaps the greatest blessing is the opportunity to work with good, sincere, imperfect people.
My friend and supervisor has a daughter who has also been scrambling to complete packets in order to graduate. We have done a lot of laughing and hoping and praying. Both of our daughters are fabulous young woman. They are responsible, caring, hard-working, and excellent in many things. But now we are facing the very end of high school--and these young ladies are facing the consequences of poor choices earlier in their high school careers.
As a parent it is difficult to allow your children to make choices that you consider wrong. In this case it's not necessarily wrong, but it will have difficult and far-reaching consequences, maybe for life; it's difficult to see that happen to your children. Additionally, it is very hard not to let pride set in: I'm smarter than that--how come she couldn't be? She's just as good as that other student, maybe better! How must I look to others when I couldn't even get our daughter through high school? What will people think of her? Why didn't I ____________?
Of course, none of those pride issues is the real issue, and most of them aren't even true! But Satan will work on us to make us feel like we are failures in any way that he can.
And so, we work; we tell our children that they are great and that they can do it; we stay up late; we tell our children that they are great and that they can do it; we help with homework, even when we aren't sure what we're talking about; we tell our children that they are great and that they can do it; we tell them that again. And we pray.
This is another hard thing. What I want to pray is, "Father, please make it all OK. Let her finish and succeed. FIX IT!" What I try to pray is, "Father, please make it all OK, whatever that is. Let her succeed, even if it means she has to fail. I haven't been perfect. Neither has she. But we're working, and we're trying to do all we can to fix this and make it right. Help us to accept thy will. Please help us."
This morning my dear friend came into the office completely frazzled and announced that it didn't look like her daughter was going to graduate. She was heart-sick and emotional and disappointed and frustrated. She told us later that she hardly even remembered walking to the bus stop because she was praying so hard. And finally she found it in her to say, "According to thy will..." As soon as she truly prayed that, her burden was lighter. She was still concerned about her daughter and the situation, but she was doing all she could and leaving the rest in God's hands. This afternoon her older, married son and his wife called and offered to sit up with her daughter all night to get as much done as they could. And then a dear friend contacted her roommate, who was a high school chemistry teacher, who agreed to help them all through the night if necessary in order to get this packet completed.
Somehow, God helps us through things. And it is still possible that--after all of this--there will be no graduation ceremony. But there have been blessings and understanding and learning that may not have come in any other way.
(As a follow-up: we are still hoping and praying in our family, too. But friends--Bri's and ours--have stepped up to the plate to help in many, many ways. Bri, too, has kept on plugging. She's had lots of late nights, but she's getting there. We are cautiously hopeful. And we are grateful for the blessings and the understanding and the learning.)
Thanks to Jessica for this tag. Here are 5 things I'm thankful for:
1. My family. Actually, I could list Spence and our children individually, but that seemed like cheating. I am so grateful to be a wife to this extremely wonderful man and a mother to our beautiful, talented children. BTW, anyone who doesn't adore and enjoy their teenagers is missing out on one of the most fun stages of life!
2. My job. Since this is a different season in my life than 10 years ago, I went back to work full time. I took the place of someone who was leaving full time employment to be a mommy full time. If she has the best job in the world (and nothing beats being Mom), then mine is the second best. The people I work with, the environment I get to spend my day in, even the work I do is THE BEST. I am happy to go to work every day. I believe that is an incredible blessing, and I hope you all get to be that happy in your employment! Thanks, Tim, for letting Jessica be a full-time wife and mom; it gave me the chance to have the best job ever! (Amy, you're still just mediocre--don't get any ideas!) AND, in these difficult economic times, it is a blessing to have employment at all. I thank heaven daily for this incredible blessing.
3. The restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Heavenly Father's plan for our happiness is a gift to all of His earthly children. What makes it even more incredible for me (and most of the people I know) is that I KNOW His plan. I have the temple, the scriptures, the prophets, the priesthood ordinances and covenants, and the direction that can lead us back to our heavenly home--and beyond! I could go on and on. I love the gospel and I'm thankful for the direction it gives my life every day and in every way. I'm far from perfect, but it makes a difference, I promise.
4. A healthy body. There was a time when I thought that this would not be my blessing by the time I got to the ripe old age of 40. While I feel the aches and pains that are coming with middle age (did I really just say that? No! I'm YOUNG!), I am in fabulous health, and I'm able to do the things I want to do.
5. The chance I've had to travel. I hope to do a lot more of this as the years pass. With Spencer. I love to see all the different parts of the world--the geography, the people, the customs, the food. I love it all! I really haven't been to very many places. But I've been in a tropical rain forest and an arctic rain forest; I've been to our nation's capital (sp?); I've seen banana trees and coconut trees and cactus and evergreens; I climbed the ziggurat at Chichen Itza; I've been scuba diving (sigh! Heaven!), hiking, cruising, kayaking. Every little thing is heavenly. Imagine a celestial world!--This telestial world is amazing!
I could go on and on, but I think I was limited to 5, and you don't want to read all night. Tag! You're it!
Today I had the opportunity to speak to two good friends. Both conversations led to the fact that we are so blessed, even as we face adversity.
When I was 23 I had a miscarriage. It was not a fun experience, and I would not wish it for you or ANYONE. But I also would not trade it, because right from the beginning I was able to see Father in Heaven's hand in blessing me through this trial. That was the first time that it really occurred to me that even when I can't choose what happens, I can choose how I react to what happens.
For the most part, I try to be a happy person. It helps that I spend my life laughing at all of you--sometimes because you were even TRYING to be funny. You are cheap entertainment.
But I believe that you have to choose to be happy, even when things are hard.
I'll be honest. I feel like my life so far has been pretty easy. Am I blessed because I'm happy or am I happy because I'm blessed?
I don't necessarily think of myself as a woman of faith, but I'm sure glad to KNOW that God is there.
Why NOT be happy?
P.S. You may have to remind me of this when I'm whining to you about something hard. Nevertheless--it's true!
