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.

Keep on Plugging

I feel somewhat stuck in a rut. Gray clouds are gathering overhead, challenging my perspective. Maybe it's a post-vacation hang over. Or maybe it's because I'm having an incredibly hard time conjuring up a bit of quiet, reflective, reading time of my own. It could be that Atrain has developed a silly/snappy/stubborn alter-ego I've deemed his 'Darth' side that requires me to endlessly nag and remind him about good and bad choices and their coinciding consequences before he obeys (and after he disobeys). And I don't have the patience of a Jedi knight.

It's hard when I don't feel like myself, and when I don't like the self I seem to be. I've crumbled to my knees a lot lately--especially when I remember that I forgot again to say my prayers--seeking inspiration and more peace of mind. That's hard too; turning to God to ask for help when I don't quite feel up to par. It's kind of like going to a cousin's baptism with my son who stained the seat of his pants on a slide doused in Gatorade. We go on anyway. I pray on anyway. God came to Earth to mend the brokenhearted and strengthen the weary. He can also help me relocate the bit of myself that I somehow misplaced.

Missinaries Tuesday

Dear Elder I,

It’s late, and a lot of things are running through my mind tonight. This past week I felt stuck in a torrent of bad luck: I lost my key card, lost my keys, temporarily misplaced my husband, locked my keys in my car, and then ended it all with a bang in the ER with Atrain. Normally, I consider Sunday the first day of the week, but on this special occasion I’m officially kicking Sunday to the back of the line. No offense, I loved talking to you for a few seconds, but any day that ends with Atrain in the hospital is the worst day of the week.

We went to ER for another extreme case of vertigo. I can’t even imagine how it must be to feel like you hopped aboard an endless Gravitron ride. My poor boy. I wish there was more that I could do. He’s doing so much better now. In fact, we spent the day like many others: masquerading as Peter Pan, Wendy, and Michael; and then switched over to and Dar[k] Vader, Princess Leia and Yoda. Then we went to have sandwiches at Subway for dinner—a special treat, indeed. Atrain loves ham, olive, mayo and lettuce sandwiches.

We parked in front of Subway along a strip mall that is connected to our favorite grocery store. It’s our favorite because it reminds me of the grocery store back home: happy people, yummy samples and nice baggers who are always willing to push my cart out to the car when my hands are full of kiddos. I definitely took advantage of that service tonight. Atrain insisted on “checking out” all of the stores down the strip, so how could I refuse? I loved holding Jdog in my arms, pushing the stroller and watching Atrain walk so nimbly around the various store obstacles. He was perfectly balanced with such a determined stride. I like letting him lead the way. It’s often impractical, but he soaks those moments in—he asks questions, the makes observations, he discovers.

Before long, I discovered that we had walked all the way to the grocery store. Then, of course I had to get bread, milk, bananas, cheese, cereal, etc. I even picked up a bright blue dollar sword to surprise Atrain. I love surprising him. Before I knew it the basket of Jdog’s stroller was overflowing. But, the grocery store clerk insisted that one of their nice young baggers accompany me all the way to my car (about a block away). That bagger’s picture should be immortalized in a museum of amazing employees. What a nice young man. Service is the best way to sneak your way into someone’s heart.

We have been served a lot lately. I guess I’m just in a time of life where I need a lot of help, especially this last weekend. Jdog is still nursing, so I needed him at the hospital with me, and I needed to be with Atrain. Everyone in our family and the husband’s family volunteered to go. Mom won the “coveted” spot, and she endured a pretty sleepless night with me and the boys. The husband’s mom is planning on spending the night with us on Wednesday to help me while I’m working. I have been so blessed. I yearn to do more, to help more people, to be better, to have more faith. It was especially difficult on Sunday when I couldn’t even help my son. Sometimes it’s hard to pray and ask for a miracle. I never know what to expect, and often feel like the father of the child Christ healed who said, “Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief.”

I have faith that God can heal Atrain—he has and he does. It is a miracle that my child was born profoundly deaf, but he talks clearer than many hearing three year olds. It’s is a miracle that Atrain can be on the floor—unable to move with such extreme cases of vertigo, then 36 hours later be up on his feet, pretending to fly like Peter Pan. It is a miracle. And as I sat by his side, praying that God would heal him, and listened to Dad give him a Priesthood blessing that told him he would feel better soon, there was a part of me that wants to ask, “Now, please—heal him now.” But why would Christ heal one blind man on the spot, and then in a separate case make clay spittle, rub it on another blind man’s eyes and command him to wash in the pool? God knows what we need. Miracles and faith are interdependent, but I don’t think there is a “miracle quota” to fill: x amount of faith = x amount of miracles. Faith is the process by which miracles come to pass, and as my faith grows, the comprehension of the miracles God brings to pass in my life also grows. I believe in God. I hope for a better world, especially for my sons. My hope anchors my soul, and my faith helps me keep going—keep trying, keep praying, especially when I’m searching for a miracle.

I love you brother. Keep up the good work.

Love,
MJ