Wisdom in my Order

Tonight I cuddled with my baby. Jdog curled up against my chest and we sat in the recliner as the late afternoon sunlight warmed our skin. Atrain chased dust particles illuminated by the rays. The husband flipped through studentdoctor.net to catch up on the latest residency application gossip. And I just sat there quietly, thinking, breathing, and watching my baby's head dip in and out of the beams of sunlight with every inhale. It was a simple moment when I listened, and heard a soft reminder from the Spirit about how happy I am because of these boys--because of my family.

It's not that I ever really forget such an important piece of information. I always remember that fact. It's just easy to forget how it feels. Stress numbs my senses too often, and I loose purpose and direction. I become so exhausted with worry about what I have to do, and how I have (or haven't) done it that it's hard to soak in the reason for doing.

In the scriptures there is a section where a king is speaking to his people in the wake of a great spiritual renewal. After they had fallen to the earth "because they viewed themselves in their own carnal state," he goes on to teach them how to be saved through the Atonement of Christ; to come to know God, to repent and have humility. He goes on to stress the necessity of loving caring for and teaching my family, and also the importance of doing the same for neighbors. And then his advice is divine, "And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order, for it is not requisite that a man run faster than he hath strength..." (Mosiah 4:27).

This scripture can be interpreted in a lot of ways, but at least this time as I read through it, I felt inspired to focus more on God's love as I'm doing my daily deeds, rather than on His expectations. It is good to know and understand who God wants me to be. But, it's better to know God. Having wisdom and order in my doings means that I first know and believe, and then my doing will be more purposeful, joyful and fulfilling. I don't need to outrun my to do list. I do need more mothering moments where I stop, listen, and let my heart be filled with joy.

Menchies

Tonight Famous and I met Menchies: a delightful little yogurt shop that has stolen my heart. There's something magical about unlimited samples. I considered paying them a few dollars to let me sit in the back and endlessly taste test. But instead I weighed in with raspberry, cake batter and mocha yogurt in my cup. Not the best combination. I can't wait to go back for a second attempt at self-serve frozen yogurt perfection. I'm even more excited for future helpings of Famous' wise council.

We talked about dreams, about marriage, about our kids, and about all of the "noxious weeds" growing about, trying to strangle our outlook. Life is hard. Love is hard. It is hard to make choices, especially when you love so much and yearn so deeply for that choice to be the best for those you love. But it is given to us to choose. And, as Famous so soundly taught me tonight, we must "rejoice in the choice."

Thanks for the Menchies, Famous. What a bland existence it would be if all choices were as inconsequential as the flavor of yogurt poured into a cup.

In Sorrow

I’m home alone again tonight, and I’ve been wrestling with my complaints. I think I may have just won: a moment of peace in a world of confusion. But I’ll chalk it up as a victory, nonetheless.

I hate admitting to all that whirls around in my mind, but it’s therapeutic in a way—seeing my naked words lying on the blank page. Self acceptance is beautiful; directed change is divine.

Tonight my mind was running laps around the med school trench: loathing the schedule; aching for more time with the husband; festering with bitterness on behalf of our kids, who need their daddy; and shoving away inklings of jealousy—wishing that I were the one learning to save lives rather than doing (or not doing) the dishes. It is what it is, and tonight it was hard to imagine that it will ever be different.

We dream in ideals and sometimes it’s sort of foolish. An 8-5 schedule won’t make life more manageable, a house that is more than 650 square feet certainly won’t be easier to keep, and being a parent will only get scarier as my kids get older. When I was young I thought that life would be easier “if” and “when.” Sometimes I still do. How silly of me.

I got wrapped up in reading and rereading about Adam and Eve tonight. It helped me gain my footing—steadied my perspective. God told Eve that “in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children,” and said to Adam that, “cursed shall be the ground for thy sake; in sorrow thou shalt eat of it all the days of thy life.” The ground was cursed for his sake, and Eve was told that it would be sorrowful to bring forth children. It’s supposed to be this way—for our sake. Adam said, “Blessed be the name of God, for because of my transgression my eyes are opened, and in this life I shall have joy, and again in the flesh I shall see God.”

It hurts to stretch. It’s hard to grow. It hurts even more and is even more difficult to help my children do the same. This is life. There is joy and there is sorrow: the greater the sorrow, the sweeter the joy. And it is so sweet.

In Over my Head

I finally finished the header for July today. Not that it takes all that much time to sit down and put a Photoshop collage together. I just haven’t been around. And when I am around, I spend most of my time packing, unpacking and playing with the boys. I do love playing with my boys. We haven’t had enough unstructured playtime lately, and I think it’s taken a toll on us all—especially Atrain. He has had an accident every day for the past four days: strange. Particularly the one where he was standing on his scooter in the kitchen and all of the sudden his scooter was rolling in urine. Ew.

And then there’s been an increase of fits, a needy “I can’t do it by myself” attitude toward things he used to be excited to do alone, whining and whining and whining and odd baby-like behavior (steeling Jdog’s binki and curling up in his crib). Hum. I think Atrain is a little off kilter. Perhaps all of the coming and going and subsequent motivating, begging then insisting has made him feel a little out of control. And, I’m at a loss. I feel like I’m a first-time carriage driver trying to rein in a steed that’s galloping toward a cliff.

Maybe that’s a little bit of an overstatement, but I do feel rather unprepared and incapable of doing the simplest things—hence the upside down boots in the header. I feel like I’m in over my head. Why is it so hard to tell my three year old that we can’t just mimic baby J’s loud screams during sacrament meeting at church? Correcting him today only amplified the problem. Perhaps he needs more positive reinforcement, and more one on one time with momma to remind him how much I love my big boy.

I read the “You are Speical” book with him tonight. Then we read it again, and again. I want my kids to grow up knowing that I love them no matter what happens, and for who they are, no matter what they do or don’t do. Obviously, bad choices mean bad consequences, but I never want my discipline and/or encouragement to be so overbearing that they question my love and admiration. So I’m going to set a special emphasis on my unconditional love for my boys this week and forever. Moroni 7 46-47 is the best reminder, “…if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth. Wherefore, cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all, for all things must fail—but charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.”

Lose Yourself

Many strange things have happened to me as a mother. I’ve watched my abdomen balloon to the size of a basketball and independently wobble with life inside; I’ve become completely tolerant of touching many disgusting bodily byproducts; and, random line-ups of toy cars are an integral part of my interior decoration scheme (just to name a few). But, perhaps one of the strangest things that occasionally happens amidst all of the things I’m trying to find (sunscreen, keys, the card, the grocery list, the email responses, the dirty diaper, where Atrain may have put Fin McMissile, which side I fed Jdog on last, etc. etc. etc.), is that it’s easy to loose myself in the mix.

It’s strange, really, when I search for the familiar sense of self I thought I knew so well, only to find pieces of that person and some undefined stuff in between. I hear my voice and the nagging, “Please obey me when I ask you the first time,” words I speak and I idealize the former version of myself, wondering where the fun, sweet, spontaneous me went. Next, I lose focus, which then inevitably leads to a harrowing, guilty conscience. Yesterday, I actually asked my mom, “Why do we do it?” The words tasted biter and full of regret as soon as they left my tongue.

Of course I know why. And the only reason I asked my mom such a stupid question was because I knew she would understand what I really meant: help. After a few good conversations and some un-tethered time catching up on my scripture study, LDS conference council and enjoying my kiddos sans household duties, my perspective is a lot clearer. I am a mother because I love God. I am a mother because I love my husband. I am a mother because I love the little souls I am blessed to nurture—so much that I want to turn myself inside out to protect them. I am a mother because I know that raising good kids is the greatest contribution I can make. Nothing is more important than this responsibility I chose to bear.

Perhaps that is why it is so difficult; I want to be the best mothering-me I can be, but I am still learning who she is. I’m sure I will always be, and I am ok with that. This weekend the words of a familiar scripture wrote themselves so clearly in my mind, and took on new meaning:

Matthew 10:39, “He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.”

I want to get lost in motherhood. I don’t need to be concerned about that me that I was when I didn’t have kids and how she compares to the me that I am now. I am going to focus on who I am becoming, rather than who I was. And, when I’m wishing for a little more of myself to go around, I need to remember that God can make more of me than I could have ever make of myself.