I hate it when that happens....

Dontcha hate it when you are determined to get to bed earlier than usual and as you are heading to bed and running through your mental list one last time you realize that you forgot to do a life-sized tracing of your child on butcher paper for your child's first day of preschool (and cut it out) so Miss Teacher can decorate it with old clothes that you also forgot to find and cut just right so they can be stapled onto said life-sized tracing that you had to wake your precious child up to do?

I hate it when that happens. (Yawn.)

Musings on Suffering and Submission (and Sacrifice)

With the chronic fatiguey stuff I deal with, I never know how I will feel from day to day. Yesterday was a rough day. By the end of the day I was so spent, so discouraged. I read this, and found myself on the verge of tears. (Sidenote -- that is a stunning article on sacrifice. I suggest you go read it now before even finishing here!) The irony of being a mother of young children with limited energy (and being willing but currently unable to subject my body to another being-pregnant-and-taking-care-of-an-infant experience) sometimes seems like more than I can bear. And there just seems to be no end in sight to this relentless, foggy fatigue and the pain and discomfort that often accompany it. It's. Not. Fair.

Weighed down by these thoughts, as I did dishes last night, I finally slumped over the sink and began to cry. The gift of that article, however, must have allowed an image to form in my heart and mind. In that instant, I pictured the Savior also slumped over, in Gethsemane, pressed by the "infinite and eternal" weight of the sins and afflictions heaped upon His soul.

That image enabled me to stand up a little straighter and dry my eyes. "I am trying to be like Jesus," right? Somehow, I must summon the strength to bear this trial gracefully. Even the Savior wanted His cup to pass, but, in the end, He submitted. "Thy will be done."

Irony is the hard crust on the bread of adversity. Irony can try both our faith and our patience. Irony can be a particularly bitter form of such chastening because it involves disturbing incongruity. It involves outcomes in violation of our expectations. We see the best laid plans laid waste.

Amid life’s varied ironies, you and I may begin to wonder, Did not God notice this torturous turn of events? And if He noticed, why did He permit it? Am I not valued?...

Irony may involve not only unexpected suffering but also undeserved suffering. We feel we deserved better, and yet we fared worse. We had other plans, even commendable plans. Did they not count?...

In coping with irony, as in all things, we have an Exemplary Teacher in Jesus. Dramatic irony assaulted Jesus’ divinity almost constantly.

For Jesus, in fact, irony began at His birth. Truly, He suffered the will of the Father 'in all things from the beginning.' (3 Ne. 11:11.) This whole earth became Jesus’ footstool (see Acts 7:49), but at Bethlehem there was 'no room … in the inn' (Luke 2:7) and 'no crib for his bed' (Hymns, 1985, no. 206.)

At the end, meek and lowly Jesus partook of the most bitter cup without becoming the least bitter. (See 3 Ne. 11:11; D&C 19:18–19.) The Most Innocent suffered the most. Yet the King of Kings did not break, even when some of His subjects did unto Him 'as they listed.' (D&C 49:6.) Christ’s capacity to endure such irony was truly remarkable.

(Neal A. Maxwell, “Irony: The Crust on the Bread of Adversity,” Ensign, May 1989, 62

Though stretched by our challenges, by living righteously and enduring well we can eventually become sufficiently more like Jesus in our traits and attributes, that one day we can dwell in the Father’s presence forever and ever. By so living now, our confidence will 'wax strong in the presence of God' then (D&C 121:45). Confirmingly, the Prophet Joseph declared, 'If you wish to go where God is, you must be like God, or possess the principles which God possesses' (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, comp. Joseph Fielding Smith [1976], 216).

Again, our experiences surely do not approach those of Jesus, yet the same principles and processes apply. His perfected attributes exemplify what can be much further developed by each of us. There is certainly no shortage of relevant clinical experiences, is there?

(Neal A. Maxwell, “Apply the Atoning Blood of Christ,” Ensign, Nov. 1997, 22)

Good news, anyone?

It's been quite a week. You know the "good news minute" in Relief Society that it seems is done quite regularly? Well, I missed it today. Literally and figuratively. I'm feeling weighed down, because:

- I found out a friend's missionary son came home six months early from his mission. Not for health reasons. (I was thrilled, however, to see the love and warmth that he found at church. We have an awesome ward.)
- We had two babies born, both who ended up in the ICU. (I think they will be fine.)
- I spent RS talking to a friend who is on the brink of leaving her husband. Hard situation on many fronts. They have two small children.
- I met yet another woman who was deserted by her husband (of 20 years) for another woman, whom he then deserted months later. I can't comprehend the pain they must have experienced.
- A friend has decided to be done with the Church. If you wonder why I worry about too much intellectualizing about stuff related to our religion in ways that calls into the question the foundations of our faith, this is one reason why. I have walked with her through part of this journey, desperately hoping that she could see the light instead of the darkness of doubt, but to no avail. Dancing with doubt is dangerous business. It's devastating to me to see someone I care about so deeply walk away from Living Water and the Bread of Life.
- Our Sunday School lesson was one of those last-days-gloom-and-doom lessons. Of course, I know all the righteous-need-not-fear answers, but still sometimes the realization of our perilous times gets to me, ya know?
- On a personal note, I had a hard time not breaking down at the hospital when we visited one of the new moms. I am feeling old and tired and still not sure if having another child will be something we get to experience. While it doesn't stop my life, the pain of that potential end is ever-present -- made more so when I see a new little life.

I'm really fine, but it has been quite a heavy day. Thank heaven for the gospel which is my anchor, reminding me that there is hope in these last days, that trials can be overcome, and that nothing can go permanently wrong if we trust in and follow the Savior.

-

Just to report....

It is tomorrow (well, actually it's a little into the tomorrow after tomorrow, but I'm still awake so it's not tomorrow yet). AND I EXERCISED TODAY! Yeah for me! (I also had a bite of ice cream that I bought at the end of our date. Yes, we actually had a date tonight. Saw "My Fair Lady" on an outdoor stage. It was delightful.)
'Nite....

Ice cream is good for you, too, right?

Well, it's wind-down-at-night time for me yet again. The days whir by...it's another weekend. I swear the older I get the faster time goes.

I was really going to exercise tonight, but now I'm afraid if I do I will have an even harder time than usual falling asleep. So I'm eating ice cream instead. :) (Sad to think I used to jog 4-6 miles a day, 6 days a week. And then I had children. Ah, well, they are worth it. I am determined to get back into some sort of exercise regimen however. There's always tomorrow....)

I Forgot to Remember

So, I just barely started this blog, and, all in all, I think so far it has been pretty depressing. Sorry for that. I guess that is because the last month has been a tough one in many ways. I've had some super-fun things to do, but I haven't felt good and that sometimes takes its toll on my emotional state. But today, I'm doing better. It helped to wake up on my own (yesterday, I was awakened out of a deep sleep and never recovered from that hit-by-a-truck feeling). And I had a little jolt of the Spirit last night while I was reading my scriptures (while walking on the treadmill -- are you impressed?) :)

I read through 2 Nephi 4, which has always been a favorite of mine (especially when I'm feeling down on myself and frustrated about my weaknesses, as I was yesterday). And then, "somehow," I ended up in Helaman 5. Verse 12 has been a constant favorite since I discovered that scripture in Seminary. (I even chose it as our class theme when I was Laurel president way back when, if that tells you anything.)

And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.

First of all, I have always been intrigued by this word "remember" -- and by how many ways the Lord tries to help us remember. Repetition is a key part of the gospel. We go to Church every week to partake of the sacrament. We discuss each of the standard works every four years in Sunday School. The temple ordinances are the same each time, and are repetitious by design. And so it goes.

But, ya know what? I've forgotten. Somehow, in the flurry of activities the past while, and in the daily slogging I've done in the face of feeling yucky, I've forgotten. I'm ashamed to say it, but I've not had myself founded on Christ. It's not that I haven't thought good gospel thoughts and done good things and tried to be good. I have. But I haven't really remembered Christ specifically, especially these past couple of weeks. I've been worried about my parenting. I've been consumed with the projects and activities I've had pressing on me. I've been doing the stuff of life. But the Savior hasn't really been on the radar screen as He needs to be.

Now, I fully admit that I'm not exactly sure what it means to build my foundation on the rock of Christ. But in the instant that I read (and then re-read) this verse, I realized that something needs to change. And I think that when it does, I will feel better. Actually, just realizing -- just remembering -- that I need to remember the Savior more brought a little light to my soul. And a surge of hope -- especially when considering the promises contained in that scripture that "when [notice he says "when" and not "if"] the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo." NO POWER. Wow. What a promise! But that's not all. We are promised that we "cannot fall" if we are built on the rock of our Savior.

How are you feeling in your life? Have there been storms and winds and lightning and despair? If so, go read Helaman 5:12. And remember.

The Pain of Imperfection

One of the most difficult things for me is to be faced with a responsibility so important that someone else's life and soul are on the line, and to realize that I can't possibly fulfill my role without imperfection. I felt it as a missionary; the work was far too important for someone as flawed as I to do. And yet, there I was. Called of God, even. But nearly paralyzed by my imperfections.

Now, more than a decade later, the pain of my imperfection is sometimes nearly unbearable as I am now a parent. A parent of three of the most amazing, life- and light-filled souls you will ever meet. Why on earth would God send them to me? My heart weeps. (My eyes, too.) My soul, today, lingers in the "valley of sorrow" and my strength slackens. I have felt this before. Yes, Nephi described it well. Sometimes the pain causes my flesh to feel that it may somehow "waste away." Have I committed some terrible sin against them? No, but the sin of imperfection is enough to sometimes grind me nearly to a halt. I'm still not used to failing every day like I do as a parent.

I've never dealt well with my weaknesses. I've always been a perfectionist, and I know that's not a good thing. But oh, how I long to be perfect for the sake of my children. But it is not to be. My imperfections are part of His plan. Part of my plan. Part of their plan. In their innocence, they forgive, because they are children. Someday, as all children do, they will grow enough to know of my weaknesses. And that will be woven into the tapestry of their lives and become part of their trials. What then? I must learn to turn the pain to Christ somehow, just as they will. Only He can heal the pain that is inevitable in our families, in even the best of families. I need to trust that the Atonement can even save them from me. Save me from myself.