So Very Thankful

Let me count the Ways....

Message of Faith and Hope

This is a new "Mormon Message" on the Church's website. This mother inspires me. When I think about how difficult, relentless, draining, and emotional it is to be a mom, I think about her. And I realize, it is not so very hard after all. She gives me faith and hope. And for that - and so many more reasons - she is oh so beautiful!



(Her husband, Christian, grew up across the street from me. So I have followed their story with a tiny, personal investment and have felt so much joy in their successes. They are amazing! Truly!)

Relief Society

[I was asked to share my feelings on "How the Relief Society Has Blessed My Life" tonight at Enrichment (excuse me... at our Relief Society Activity). I am a terrible terrible terrible public speaker. I would much rather sing than speak. But if I have to speak, then I have to write it all down. So, since it was already written down, I thought I'd share.]

When I think about how the Relief Society program has blessed my life, I immediately think about my first real exposure to it. My freshman year at BYU I lived in the dorms and was in a student ward consisting completely of other College Freshmen. For most of us, we had never been to a Relief Society meeting or activity, and suddenly we were asked to organize, conduct, teach, prepare, fellowship, and promote this society we knew very little about. It was an organization meant for our mothers, not us. But, as most girls like to do, we had fun putting on our mother’s shoes and role-playing. Our visiting teaching statistics were close to 100% every month! At first, I felt like I was just “pretending” to be a member of the Relief Society. But as my attendance and experiences with the program increased, so did my testimony of its divinely inspired organization. It was then I knew that I did not just attend Relief Society, but that I actually belonged to the Relief Society. That is what makes the Relief Society so special. It is something we all belong to - without having to pay dues, or subscribe to literature, or hold a card membership. As LDS women, we all belong to this wonderful society and it belongs to us.

The Relief Society is always there. No matter where we go. When my husband and I moved EIGHT times in the first five years of our marriage, I found comfort knowing that with each move, I would be able to latch onto a community of sisters who would encourage and sustain me when I needed it.

I feel extremely blessed to currently hold the calling of Compassionate Service Leader. It has been inspiring and humbling to watch so many of you drop what you are doing to come to the aid of a sister in need. Every call that I make, I do with apprehension - always worried that I will be told “no way” or “take a hike”. But I have been in awe of the willingness to sacrifice that every woman has that I have called. Whether it’s taking in meals, providing a phone call or a thoughtful note, or planning a wedding, the sisters in our ward have really stepped up. And it has been a wonderful blessing to witness.

But probably the way that the Relief Society has most blessed my life has been the role it has played in sustaining me since my mother unexpectedly passed away two years ago. I was left with so many questions, so many why’s, what now’s, how’s, and who do I’s. I was Lost. But in the Relief Society General Meeting that was broadcast soon after my mother’s passing, President Julie B. Beck told a story that Found me. She tells of a time in her young-adulthood when her parents, who had been her neighbors, announced that they would be moving to another part of the world. Since this was before the time of modern communication, she felt she would be especially deserted and alone. She says, “One day before my mother left, I sat weeping with her and asked, ‘Who will be my mother?’ Mother thought carefully, and with the Spirit and power of revelation which comes to women of this kind, she said to me, ‘If I never come back, if you never see me again, if I’m never able to teach you another thing, you tie yourself to Relief Society. Relief Society will be your mother.’”

And that is what the Relief Society has become to me. It is as dependable, loving, forgiving, comforting, inspiring, constant, knowledgeable, compassionate, understanding, and beautiful as my mother. I have truly been blessed to have the Relief Society in my life.

The Heart of the Matter - An Essay

{This blog was created a little over a year ago, and this is a post I had intended to write since its conception - first as a motivational tool for myself and then as a triumphant update. But better late than never. I write this so that my children will know that love is imperfectly perfect, and so that other mothers, who struggle as I have, will know that they are not alone.}

When my eldest was six weeks old, I confessed to my mother that I had not yet told him "I love you." "That's silly," she responded. "Just do it." And I gave her a sheepish grin, because I knew, that of course, she was right.

But try as I might, I just could not get the words to come out. Even as I would sing songs with that loving phrase in it, I found myself stopping short, or changing the words to something less exposing. Barney became my nemesis.

Years ago, when I first found out I was pregnant, I hoped beyond hope that it would not be a son. You see, I've been hurt a lot in the past by other people's sons. And to have one of my own frightened me to tears. Lots of tears.

So I made a plan. I could never be hurt emotionally if I never became emotionally vulnerable. I would never expose my weakness. And that weakness was love - the Achilles heel of all humankind that sets us up for disappointment and heartache.

There was only one problem - I had not yet experienced motherhood. And to stop love from entering a mother is like stopping a rhino from charging a fire.
It's instinct.

Nonetheless, the WALL had been built. And it was a thick one with large blocks and strong mortar, encased with barbed wire and a security alarm to boot. I was fortified to the max, ready to withstand any of life's hurling heartaches. But I had not taken into consideration the extraordinary strength of the gentlest touch from the tiniest hands.

Instead of that wall being one of protection, I immediately became imprisoned by it. Every single day was a fight. Every day.

Imagine the aching and yearning...

I would look into those precious, innocent {completely innocent!} little eyes and feel my heart swell. But I could not get past my lips the feelings in my heart. Days, then months, then years - until suddenly there was no longer one pair of innocent eyes longing for my affections, but three! Not a day escaped my notice, that it was yet another day gone for my children, verbally loveless.

I watched parents around me dispense their emotions freely. I watched with envy. How could they assume life so unguarded? Then I would fill with shame. Then dread.

So instead, I resorted to other methods: longer hugs, more kisses, strokes of the hair, and tighter squeezes. I created this blog to hopefully document some of my efforts as future proof for my children. Perhaps they will never hear of my love, but they can still know it. But is that enough for a child? Is it enough for any one? Like Shakespeare says, "They do not love that do not show their love." I absolutely believe that. For what good is saying it without showing it? Actions speak louder than words - so they say.

But the countless tears on my pillow begged to differ. What good is showing it without saying it? The two absolutely go hand in hand. It is a partnership imperative for optimum results, both for the giver and the receiver.

Three years past. One day my son said something that caught me completely off-guard.

"I love you Mommy".

In a single instant, my heart raced and sank simultaneously. I grabbed him for another long embrace, but all I could say was "Thank you." I had dreamt of a moment like this. A moment where every single element would be just right and those three simple, yet daunting, words could escape my lips in perfect bliss.

But I consistently let hundreds of those moments pass me by. Birthdays, Christmases, bed times, story times, play times, nap times, holidays, special days, normal days - all vanished without me seizing them.

Then it happened. Just this Fall, while at work and on the phone with my three-and-a-half-year-old (of all the least poetic places), it just slipped out. "Be good for Daddy. I love you. Bye bye."

I put the receiver down in shock. Then a HUGE smile spread across my face as the weight of that brick wall collapsed and crumbled all around me.

I had thought that saying "I love you" would be confining, and paint a target of weakness on my back. But suddenly, I had never felt so liberated --- and strong! It was a beautiful feeling. And when I got home that evening I repeated my unbridled blunder, and added an embrace to match the size of my heart and smile on my face. For the first time, I was able to give myself fully to my children - the mom they deserve, who loves them in word and deed and every second in between.

Since then, I have made it a point to seize every opportunity I am given, to show and tell my children of the love I have for them. And I revel in every syllable.

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To many, I know this story may seem "silly"- a dramatic episode from one emotionally unbalanced. And while I can agree slightly (else I would not have just written those words) I have to profess that every ounce of silliness was, and is, Real. Being a mother is emotionally unbalanced. We have to play so many parts, be so many things - act happy for our toddler while we're vomiting into the toilet; act angry at the impolite bluntness of our preschooler while laughing hysterically inside; act calm in the grocery store while we're fuming mad at our screaming children in the cart; act sad that it's time to go to bed while we're inwardly lunging for the light switch. It's a miracle we don't all end up with multiple-personality disorder!

So to those of you who believe this essay is "silly" - I commend you for your stability.
But to any of you who struggle with the idiosyncrasies of motherhood, I say hang in there.
You are not alone.

Inspiration

I have recently been inspired by a number of love stories. Not just those of romance and fairy tales, but the long-suffering, unconditional kind. The stories that make you weep from pain and then sob with joy. This is the element of love that creates a classic. And it is something that can be shared not only between husband and wife, but also parents and children. I look at families with this type of "love life" and think I wish - then I realized, I already have. My life is full of my own personal love stories. If I just look at it with that kind of perspective and not a sinister and envious one (which has become so easy to do), it abounds with love.

I hope for this blog to be a way for me to document the little love stories I witness daily. I want it to be a record my children can revert to in the future when they may, as teenagers often do, question the love their mother has for them. And most importantly, I want them to know unequivocally that I love their father. That he is the prince in my own ordinary, yet extraordinary, romance. I have had occasion recently to doubt that parental love in my own life and I never want my children to feel that kind of emptiness.

Let there never be a doubt.

You may ask, why not just write in my journal? Good question. I guess there are a few reasons:

1. Since being out of school for a number of years now I have noticed that my hand cramps within 30 seconds of non-stop writing. This is unfortunate since I have always had a shameful pride in my penmanship.
2. I figure the internet is most likely not going to be destroyed in a fire.
3. Though I am creating this blog for the benefit of my children and husband (and myself), perhaps others may benefit in the process.

I don't expect a following on this journey. But I am looking forward to it, nonetheless. Like Shakespeare said, "They do not love that do not show their love." I need to show my love more - and not only my love but the love that I witness in others and even in the things around me. I am confident that by making this effort I will love more. And the world around me will be better for it.