Miracle

I have a post (or two) in the works all about Hyrum's birth story. And many more to follow about his time in the NICU. But in the meantime, I wanted to share. This kid is a miracle. Every child is a miracle. But on a near daily basis, I am completely floored by what an absolute living, breathing, tangible, army crawling, hand clapping, smiley miracle Hyrum is. We have issues we are dealing with and may deal with for his whole life, but when I think about where he started and where he is now... gah! It is the power of God manifest in a little 13.5 lb baby boy - in my arms! I am amazed at how far Hyrum has come and I am amazed by the goodness and power of God. The Lord has restored His priesthood power to the earth and it is REAL!

All throughout Hyrum's NICU stay, skin to skin -or Kangaroo Care- with us was a critical part of his care. I spent many hours every day holding Hyrum skin to skin to help him grow and develop, bond, and to help protect his little body and regulate it's functions. Eric was able to help with several skin to skin sessions, as well. This video is from one of their first skin to skin sessions.

Hyrum at about 4 or 5 days. (And p.s. my husband is just about the cutest dad ever. Make sure your volume is up loud.)

Hyrum today at 11 months old showing off his newly acquired sitting skills.

Random thoughts on my heart

Early on in college I took a class on family history. It sounds like it would be a pretty fluffy class, but it was actually one of my most demanding classes that semester. Hours of researching and interviewing, memorizing methods and facts and resources, travel to various libraries and lots of hunting down obscure record books, and one final exam and capstone report on my progress researching a family line over the preceding three and a half months. I didn't do a lot of things perfectly in that class (writing down sources - oy! still regretting that to this day when I can't find the sources I got certain information for all those years ago!), but I did learn a lot. And I was bitten by the family history "bug". I developed a great love for family history research and work. There is something amazing and thrilling and addicting and transcendent about finding those names and learning the stories about the people who came before you. I love the people whose names are on my family tree. I have such a tender place in my heart for them.

I don't know much, for sure, about most of them. There are a few who left personal histories and letters and pictures. For most, though, it's just bits pieced together here and there from family tradition, an obituary, census information, a newspaper clipping, and so on. But I imagine a lot about them as I gather those clues. I look at immigration records and censuses and think about the trepidation they must have felt arriving in a new country with a young family. I piece together a death record and a census and realize a child died the month before the census interview and I imagine how painful not reporting that child must have been for those parents. I smile at the marriage certificates I find and try to imagine them on that day. I hold a tender spot in my heart for grieving parents as I follow a family through the decades on censuses and see children appear and then disappear too soon.

One thing I have felt- especially over the last six months - is that pain and hardship are universal. There are seasons of happiness and prosperity. And many utterly devastating times, too. Life is hard and beautiful and messy and wonderful and tragic. It always has been and it always will be. A few months ago, I learned that my great-great grandma had three stillborn daughters. She was one of the ancestors who left behind thorough records and I've always been somewhat acquainted with her life. But I didn't learn that fact until this last October. And I felt an instant bond with her. I held my grandma's scrapbook and stared at a photo of my great-great grandma pregnant with one of her stillborn daughters and thought for a long time. I wanted to go back in time and hug her and sit in her living room and cry and talk together. As I've thought about her, I realized: she did it. She did it three times over and she picked herself up and put on foot in front of the other and lived every day until she was 105. There is strength and faith and hardiness in my history.

Family history has been a balm to my soul lately. It is like someone throwing me a lifeline in the middle of the ocean. The thought of sitting down to work on it for a bit can feel like someone turning on the lights when I've been flailing in the dark. I don't know quite how to describe it, but it seems to particularly fill a lot of the void and cover a lot of the pain connected with losing Kate. It seems like the antithesis of losing Kate - if that makes any sense. That's how it feels. Which is pretty cool. Because a lot of the time the only feelings I have in that area are more along the lines of painful, depressed, bitter, sad, jealous, tired and other pretty things like that. In general conference a few years ago, Elder Richard G. Scott spoke about doing family history work. He said that when we immerse ourselves in searching out our ancestors, it will be a great protection against the power of the adversary in our life. I've always thought that was such a neat promise. But before when I thought about the "power of the adversary" in someone's life, I was narrowly limiting it to encompass just the "big sins" and it didn't feel super applicable to me personally, right now. But today I got a letter in the mail from a county clerk in England with a death record for an ancestor whose information has been eluding me for some time. And boy, if it didn't feel like Christmas! Hooray! We found her! And every time I caught sight of that pretty piece of paper, it put a smile on my face - no matter how gloomy or dark the thoughts preceding it may have been. And as I was doing dishes and picking up the house in the post kids-in-bed-for-the-night silence, I got to thinking more about Elder Scott's promise.

Protection against the power of the adversary...

...Protection against the temptation towards bitterness in my thoughts. Protection from darkness and unrelenting pain... A cloak of charity... A means of bringing the Spirit into my life in a very special way. And that Spirit bringing relief and peace and joy and warmth and life for a little while. In a miraculous way that crowds out all the negative things and leaves no place for them.

That is sure a type of protection I could use! Temptations come in many different forms. Not just the type that make headlines in the news.

I love the Gospel. The Lord is so good. His ways are simple and peaceful. I love that I can pray for charity. I love that I can offer up a quick, pleading prayer in my heart during the day asking Him to take away bad feelings from me. I am in awe of His mercy and patience with me. I am so grateful for the Plan of Salvation - for all of the beautiful ways everything works together for my good. I love family history work - it has been a blessing in my life in so many ways. It has given me perspective and strength and empathy as I learn about my ancestor's lives. It has helped me find purpose and added power to overcome my challenges. Through it, the Lord works to bless me and countless others.

On faith

I feel like I've been learning a lot about faith over the last two months.

It's been such an odd experience, that in the midst of my great grief, I have not been able to feel a lot. I feel a few things I can identify that would seem typical during the grieving process- broken, sad, overwhelmed, angry, confused, tired. But overwhelmingly, I feel like there are so many jumbled up, confusing things to feel that it's like something short circuits inside me. And so I end up feeling this weird mixture of blank, stale, and unsettled as I live most of the time in a very superficial reality going through the motions of each day, while something in the background is screaming at me that things aren't right, there are things that need to be felt and processed, and sorted through and the end result is that it just feels awful. I really don't know how to describe it. The last four or five years have been so full of large trials - some that people know about and some that most people don't know about- and something inside of me has reached it's limit and now I'm grieving for all of it. "Complicated grieving" my therapist said it's called. She assures me it's ok and good to grieve it all now that it's come, that it'll just take time. But it's very unpleasant. Today I read/heard two or three different stories of hard things people are going through and as I was taking in these awfully hard things people are experiencing, I just felt dead. I wanted to feel empathy and heartache and love for them. But instead I felt nothing. It is all too much. It's a very frustrating way to feel. I want to feel like myself. And I want all of this to be over.

So, along with all of this business of feeling dead inside also comes a whole lot of not being able to feel the Spirit. For one thing, not allowing myself to get too deep into "spiritual things" (like meditating and pondering during prayer, for example) because that experience brings with it a whole lot of feeling and that brings a whole lot of pain, so I shut down at the start of it as a defense mechanism, I think. But also, just not feeling those "sparks" of the Spirit throughout the day - the ones that motivate me to do better, that fill me with love for people, that give me a flash of inspiration or insight - that just make me feel alive and like myself. I don't blame anyone for that or doubt the Lord or anything like that. It just is how it is. And I have faith that it won't always be like this because I have had fleeting moments of recognizing a tender blessing  from the Lord or feeling someone's love through a kind conversation or gesture that warm me. 

The bottom line is that I have been brought low. I have had experiences in life over the last few years that have made me feel like I was low- a particular trial during which I can remember laying crumpled on the floor in the shower sobbing, pouring my heartache out to the Lord, and feeling like there wasn't one soul on Earth who I could share my heartache with. Or pick virtually anytime during Elena's cancer treatment and I would have told you I felt very humbled indeed. But this! This is a new low. I have never felt like this - so stripped of all my resources to cope, so broken. I truly feel like I've been brought down to my very core. But I've been intrigued by something I've found there. Along with the darkness, I've also found the core of my faith. And in the process, I think I've learned something about what faith really is. 

Faith is the quiet, steady burning thing you find after you've stripped all the other layers away. The red-hot, but silent core under the layers of dirt and green grass and frilly flowers. My faith usually manifests itself above ground with the billowy grass and the blooms. Which is a good type of faith, too. I feel pretty happy and constant, but mostly I just feel. But when life has torn away all the excess layers, and I stand bewildered and feel like there's not much to me, I am still. 

And I realize that never have I faltered, never have I not believed. 

I know God lives. I know He loves me and that He is still guiding and blessing me ever so patiently and mercifully. (Which is amazing when even I am sick of myself!) I know He has a plan for me and my family and that good things are in store. I know He always hears my prayers. I know those things even when I can't feel them right now. And that is everything to me.

Faith, in it's simplest form, is the bedrock that everything else is built on. When all the other parts of "me" are stripped away, it is the thing that remains constant and unchanging - that is built into my very existence.

Eric and I sat philosophizing a few nights ago about out experiences with hard trials over the years and this feeling of faith I'd been thinking about. He said that he felt a lot like this when Elena was first diagnosed. When he felt so low and then eventually started feeling hope and coming to the surface again, he realized that a lifetime of good choices had built up his spiritual reserves that got him through that time. A day of going to church here, another day of scripture study there, a bit of service at home, a seemingly small act of honesty, consistent prayer, and so on. Those things were like savings for a rainy day. When the rains did come and beat upon him until he could hardly stand, what was left was the faith to keep holding on- born of thousands of small choices to do what was right. I suppose that's part of what the scriptures are mean when they talk about being built on a rock. (Like this one and this one, for example.) And it hit me - the small choices we make each day MATTER. Those are the things that build faith that will last.

I am grateful for the Gospel of Jesus Christ - a gospel of change. I'm grateful for the Lord's mercy to me. I am struggling mightily these days. But I know God lives and I know that things will eventually get better. There are a lot of things I don't understand. Right now in my broken, mourning state, I can't see or feel clearly enough to understand why certain things have happened, the timing of things that have happened, etc. There is a scripture that really speaks to me these days. It speaks to my lack of clarity, but simple, sure faith and sums it all up. I feel to say, like Job of old:

"...the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."
(Job 1:21)

Something I've Just Got to Get Out

For two days now, I've had the fourth verse to the hymn "How Firm a Foundation" running through my head quite persistently. It popped in kind of randomly after our ward choir sang some of the other verses to that song on Sunday. But I absolutely love it.

Tonight we found out that one of our favorite nurses from clinic (in Utah) was diagnosed with cancer. My heart has been aching for her and her family. She took extra special care of Elena -- and our whole family-- all throughout treatment. It's all so ironic. And sad. I wish I could be there to be such a thoughtful, cheerful, patient, loving caregiver to her now.

I can also tick off a list that seems about a mile long with friends and family who are dealing with some very hard, intense things right now. I've been trying to slow my mind down tonight, so I can sleep, but I keep going back to that verse. Maybe it keeps knocking at my brain, so that I'll let it out. I hope it helps some of you who are dealing with hard things:

"When through the deep waters, I call thee to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o'erflow.
For I will be with thee, thy trouble to bless.
And sanctify to thee, and sanctify to thee,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress."

"How Firm a Foundation", verse 4, attr. to Robert Keen

There's so much I could say about it. But that would take too long for right now. Just know that I KNOW that it's message is absolutely true and can be relied on 100%. The Lord loves us. He knows us. He is there for us every step of the way. He can make beauty rise from the ashes of our lives. He has a plan for our lives. I know that. We've lived the things the verse is talking about and I know that the Lord's promises are sure. I love all of you - my dear friends and family that are struggling right now.

A Witness

It felt good the minute I hit the publish button on that last post. I needed to get it off my chest. I cried a few tears while writing it and it was good catharsis to get it out of me and send it out into the vast expanse of the world wide web. And then in the interim, I've done a little of pondering and moping and crying and praying. A little of playing with my family, reading a few books, trying to pick up a few new hobbies/projects/interests (me + a sewing machine = interesting times). And I've come to the conclusion that this may just be a weird time in our lives where everything isn't settled or perfect and maybe even still a little bit hard, but it's still a good time, too. I think it may have something to do with the mega-overload of change we've gone through in the past four or five months. Eric's final graduation, entering the work force full time again, moving out of state, and the end of Elena's cancer treatments. That is a lot for just a few months. And I guess it makes sense that my mind is spinning and a little confused. It is how it is right now and that's ok.

A few days ago, I sat down to update the girls' baby books. Poor Lily's started trailing off around 9 months... life was a little crazy. But thankfully, I had posted enough on here to fill in the gaps. As I sat looking through old blog posts for reminders about what she was like at 10, 11, 12 months, I got caught up in rereading and remembering all that has happened over the last couple of years. It has been hard, but we have been so blessed. So blessed that sometimes it was hard to remember that our preschooler had cancer. And I was reminded of a post that I've wanted to write since shortly after Elena was diagnosed. I sat down to do it at various times along the way, but it never quite happened. And now I think it's time.

Shortly before Elena was diagnosed, I was sitting at the kitchen table one afternoon during nap time studying the scriptures. I happened to be in Mosiah 24 (in the Book of Mormon) where Alma and his people are being persecuted by Amulon and the Lamanites. Amulon put tasks and task masters over Alma and his people and persecuted them. The scriptures say that "so great were their afflictions that they began to cry mightily to God". At which point, Amulon commanded them to stop praying and put guards over them to watch them; anyone found praying would be put to death. So, Alma and his people didn't pray vocally, but prayed within their hearts to God.

As I was reading, the next few verses hit me with such power:

13 And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.

 14 And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.

 15 And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.

 16 And it came to pass that so great was their faith and their patience that the voice of the Lord came unto them again, saying: Be of good comfort, for on the morrow I will deliver you out of bondage.

It's hard to describe what I felt as I read those verses. But simply put, it was the Spirit whispering to me. I don't know, I just knew those verses were for me at that moment. They hit me with such force. It was a feeling I've had only a few times before - like an ominous foreboding, but without the "ominous". Just a serious, clear communication Spirit to spirit about something that I needed to be intensely aware of and prepared for. It was so interesting- it was like my head was telling me to be worried because something bad must be coming, but the Spirit was simultaneously whispering information and peace to my heart at the same moment, so that I didn't feel fear. It was a beautiful, sacred moment of personal revelation that I treasured up and tucked away - hardly imagining how I'd rely on it in such a short time. Every time since Elena's diagnosis that I have reflected back on that experience, I have counted it as one of the sweetest tender mercies. It is amazing to me that our Father in Heaven - Lord above all things - knows me and loves me and is so intimately involved and concerned about my life as to give me such a sweet, personal communication to prepare me for what was ahead. God lives. He knows us. I know that as much as I know anything.

The day after Elena's diagnosis, Eric and I were sitting in her hospital room on the pull out bed across the room from hers talking - making a vague attempt to get our world to stop spinning by talking out loud about what was happening. It was quiet; I think Elena was napping and Lily was eating or sleeping in my arms. I asked Eric to turn to the scripture I had read a week or so before and I recounted my experience. I told him that I knew Heavenly Father was mindful of us and that He would help us to get through whatever was ahead. And again, I felt a warm peace confirming that to me.

And we did - oh did we ever!- feel the Lord's help and blessings all along the way. It is marvelous and miraculous and humbling and amazing to think about. It would be impossible to make one all-inclusive list of all the ways we have seen the Lord's hand in our lives and all the ways our "burdens were made light" or the ways the Lord "strengthened" us to "bear up our burdens with ease". I have kept many little lists and notes along the way of examples we've seen, but I know even those are incomplete. To name a very few:

• the way the Lord guided the events of our lives in the year before Elena's diagnosis, so that we had the best possible insurance when we needed it. We NEVER would have gone that route on our own. It eased so much of the burden of cancer for the majority of treatment.
• the fantastic health care we had access to - clean, competent, and as up to date as anywhere in the world.
• that we had Lily a little earlier than we were "planning". I couldn't imagine delivering a new baby in the midst of everything, which is the timing we had picked for ourselves. Thankfully the Lord knows better.
• that Lily screamed and fussed so terribly the night before Elena's diagnosis, so that I actually got Elena in to a doctor.
• the amazing family members we were surrounded by who brought countless meals to the hospital and our home, babysat Lily for days on end, called to talk, brought gifts, cleaned our house, took weeks off of work to stay with us and help out, shaved their head in support of Elena, took pictures, helped fundraise, gave up sleep, slipped us money, came to events, sent cards when we were housebound, gave blessings, LOVED us, and who we knew would drop anything at any time to be there if we needed it.
• our incredible ward, friends, and strangers who also brought meals, sent cards, gave us so many very generous gifts, donated blood, visited us in the hospital, dropped off homemade bread and jam, came to our "cancer events", took me out to lunch when I needed a break, and so much more.
• our angel landlords who became some of our dearest friends - who were understanding when things were hard for us, who bent over backwards to help in any way they could, who patiently endured Elena's very loud steroid hysterics, and who loved us and our little ladies so dearly. We had to stay at home SO much and I have such fond memories of burdens lifted and hearts cheered as they took our girls for a walk around the backyard, to pick flowers, to go see the chickens, to get cups of ice water from the kitchen, and of them taking our girls upstairs for spaghetti and a movie night.
• the overall strength and faith we were able to keep through some very hard times. I know we were blessed with power beyond our own.
• that Eric graduated not once, but twice in the middle of it all. If you look back at the amount of time available and responsibilities and things on his plate and the overall stressors we had, it just doesn't make sense that it actually happened. Eric had heavenly help for sure.
• the incredible strength and health and resilience Elena's body was blessed with while undergoing chemo. Over and over again, we were stunned at how well Elena tolerated chemo. We joked that she had a stomach of steel. Yes, she felt pretty darn lousy for a long time and had some nasty side effects, to be sure. But overall, she was incredible blessed and carried. It was such a tender mercy not to have to watch her suffer in a lot of ways we thought we would. So many times we braced ourselves for the horrendous side effects the doctors and other people told us about - non-stop vomiting, seizures, paralyzing mouth sores, bone die-off and pain, learning disabilities, etc. I can count on two hands the number of times Elena vomited because of chemo in two and a half years. That is pretty amazing. It was hard for her, but not nearly as hard as it could have been. I know the Lord was with her.
• so many countless, countless things: safety driving so many times back and forth to Primary's - in rain, snow, hail, wind, you name it!; the inspiration to start Greengo back up, so Eric could have flexibility with his work situation; inspiration that helped us make decisions and avoid mistakes at the hospital; AMAZING doctors and nurses that we loved; the sweetness of having a baby Lily to give us some innocent, "normal" joy and distraction; Make A Wish; the cancer friends we made; the most INCREDIBLE, loving, supportive, ward EVER; being blessed to be Elena's parents and watch and learn from her strength and acceptance and faith; and on and on and on and on and on.

Like I said, there's no way I could ever name all of the blessings and help we received. But I can testify - I wish I could shout it from the rooftops for every person to hear!! - I can stand "as a witness for [Him] hereafter... that the Lord God does visit his people in their afflictions". I KNOW He does. He can make our burdens light - so light that even we can't feel them on our backs - even when we are in "bondage". We have felt that time and time again. The Lord knows us and loves us - He is anxious to bless us and help us. He is aware of the intimate details of our lives. If we will act in faith, the Lord can help to strengthen and bear us up, so that we, too, can patiently and cheerfully submit to His will. I sincerely hope that (in spite of my occasional written catharsis) we have been examples of this. We have been stretched and molded and bent to the point of almost breaking, but I know it was for our good. We learned things we needed to know and have started changing in the ways the Lord needs us to in this lifelong process of "becoming". I believe that the Lord has a plan for each of our lives more beautiful than anything we can conceive. If we will be faithful and humble and trust Him and turn our lives over to Him, He will make beautiful things out of the ashes of our trials and heartaches and disappointments. I hope you can see the goodness the Lord has blessed us with and how He has strengthened and helped us. He is so good and merciful.

These things I know of a surety.

Four thoughts

Here are four thoughts I have come across lately that I love:

1.

2. "But there is a resurrection, therefore the grave hath no victory, and the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ.

He is the light and life of the world; yea, a light that is endless, that can never be darkened; yea, and also a life which is endless, that there can be no more death." Mosiah 16:8-9

3. [Speaking about those who overcome] "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be anymore pain; for the former things are passed away." Revelations 21:4

(Isn't that an absolutely gorgeous, tender, wonderful thought?? The Lord wiping the tears from our eyes. Beautiful. Visualizing that makes me feel like I can endure anything- to come to that moment.)

4. "The Lord will give relief with divine power when you seek deliverance in humility and faith in Jesus Christ. ...No one can help you without faith and effort on your part. Your personal growth requires that. Don't look for a life virtually free from discomfort, pain, pressure, challenge, or grief, for those are the tools a loving Father uses to stimulate our personal growth and understanding. As the scriptures repeatedly affirm, you will be helped as you exercise faith in Jesus Christ. That faith is demonstrated by a willingness to trust His promises given through His prophets and in His scriptures." -Richard G. Scott

Trials

Mostly this is a long, long post about recent thoughts, feelings, experiences, and insights I've had/found. :)

Trials are funny things. There are all different sorts, of all different magnitudes. And just because you've weathered (or are weathering) some well, doesn't mean that you will automatically bear others well. It's interesting how the "mid-sized" ones can almost effect you more than the big ones or at least be more telling about the state of your faith.

A week ago today our car broke down. Like for good broke down. :( I've gone through varying emotions and states of faith over the last week.

We were on our way to an awesome HopeKids activity - a night at the Corn Maize and Harvest Festival at Thanksgiving Point - but had stopped to get the special, ultra filtered, better than we drink water that our fishies require and the darn thing died as we were pulling out of the parking lot of the fish store. It was kind of one of those punch you in the gut and then oh!-let's-kick-you-again-while-you're-down! moments.

Car-that-you-really-need-to-get-you-the-rest-of-the-way-through-school and-just-spent-$500-repairing-last-week breaks down -- UGH! Take that!

No corn maize-- POW! And that!

And then a 16 block walk home in the dark, cold night with a 5 gallon jug of fish water and two kids in tow --WHAP! And a nice pile drive to the face. (Nachhhho!)

We laughed about all that, though, and started out really hopeful, with smiles on our faces:

"We have towing included in our car insurance - sweet! No out of pocket for that. Thank heavens!"

"At least it happened at the end of the day today, because we HAVE to have a car on Thursdays. And thank heaven we made it through this busy, busy week and had a working car to get where we needed to go. What a blessing!"

"Thankfully we're all dressed warm to go to the corn maize, so we'll be warm for the walk home!"

"And what a blessing that it broke down here in town and not all the way up at Thanksgiving Point (30+ minutes away). This way it's easier to get home."

About 1/2 of the way home a very kind neighbor picked us up and drove us the rest of the way. We walked into the house with our plans in an upheaval and I started feeling a bit overwhelmed. A new car is no where NEAR in the budget! What are we going to do?? We were supposed to be able to milk this car the rest of the way through school. What on earth are we going to do?? At that point, I went back into our room and shut the door and took a few quiet moments to think things through and said a prayer. I came out feeling hopeful again and pretty peaceful.

"Something will work out," I told Eric. "We've seen how much the Lord has taken care of us so far in the timing of all this. He'll continue to provide. You have your bike to get to school in the morning and I have the double stroller to get groceries if we absolutely need anything before we find something."

Sometime during the next day though, I'm ashamed to say, my confidence vanished. It probably happened sometime between the bad report from our mechanic that the car was indeed "nuked" and hearing from the bank that our loan application wasn't likely to get approved because being an almost college graduate, precariously positioned on the threshold between part-time work and full-time work is "too risky". The stress and doubts became a palpable weight on my shoulders and pressure behind my eyes. By 5pm, I was bawling in the driveway to our landlord.

She hugged me and let me get my cry out and then SO kindly and generously offered her car for the night so we could go car shopping, get groceries, whatever. (Have I mentioned we have the world's most incredible landlords?) Eric's amazing sister and her husband took our girls at the last minute and we headed out to car shop.

Car shopping when you're not rich and don't have the luxury of time to find a good deal is not fun. It's kind of like apartment hunting when you're students on a budget. Lots of depressing specimens and feeling like you're getting ripped off. It does a lot to drain the hope out of you. At least out of imperfect me. A glimmer of hope came from a kind text from our landlord at the end of the night telling us that she had another car worked out for the whole week and that we could keep her car all week to give us more time to find something. AMAZING, I tell you! We decided there was no use worrying about it anymore that night and that we'd see what the next day brought, as far as options.

Saturday morning, I enjoyed a kids-free morning at a women's conference with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law and heard several inspiring talks about pushing on in the face of adversity and about how the Lord knows us and has power to help us through any circumstances. Rejuvenation! Perspective! About halfway through the day, I ducked out of the conference to continue the car search.

I arrived home filled with all-sorts of charity and benevolence to find Elena in mega time-out for coaxing Lily to join her in slathering lotion all over themselves - hair and all- and the couch, the news that "plan A" (and really, "plan only") had fallen through and that getting a car was going to be next to impossible, and a slightly frazzled, stressed out husband (bless his heart for all he'd put up with that morning) who had been wrangling the kids in the process of receiving the bad news. And well, fickle old me.... after about half an hour of trying to be really calm in the face of it all, you can guess where most of that charity and benevolence went. After Lily was bathed and Elena was sentenced to stay in her room cleaning up until she turned twelve, a lengthy, stressful discussion ensued about how on earth to make things work, with lots of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Towards the end of our conversation, after we'd worked out a tentative solution, I shook my fists in frustration and wondered aloud Why?! Why was this happening now?? I felt like we were so trapped in this situation and that we kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. This car was supposed to make it until Eric was done with school! We needed that car to last. It was the one thing we were depending on to make things work and reach graduation! Why?! Why, in spite of all the blessings I could clearly see in the middle of this trial, why was I having such a hard time with it? Why couldn't I accept it and move forward faithfully? Why was I so fickle? Maybe it was because we are so far removed from the shock of Elena's diagnosis, but it honestly felt like hearing that she had cancer was easier to accept and move forward with than this situation. Which is ridiculous. But hey, it's honestly how it felt. I was seriously sick and disgusted and frustrated with myself for being so shaken up over the situation.

I took a break and went to the bathroom for some tissues and headache medicine. When I came out, Eric had the brilliant idea that I should take some time out and go to the temple - find a little peace and perspective and maybe some of the answers I was wondering about. He'd do some more research while I was gone and we could work on the problem again after I got back. Brilliant.

The temple is an amazing place! One thing that hit me so powerfully on this visit was that it is truly the house of the Lord. That sounds simple, but think about it - it is His house and He lets us come there! It is amazing and SUCH a blessing that we can come be in a place so filled with His presence and so near to Him. A place where we can leave behind all the cares in our lives and find answers and peace and be renewed. What a marvelous blessing!

I was so filled with toxic doubt and fear and overwhelmed with worry, that when I got inside the temple, I could literally feel my soul yearning and gasping and gulping for the peace I felt inside. I had been too busy and too overwhelmed with those feelings to feel that in my normal, everyday life. When I sat down inside the temple, I started to realize just how drained I felt and I surrendered to the quiet, calm, rich Spirit there and let it refuel me. I never experienced it before in quite that way.

I also left the temple feeling a renewed sense of perspective. I was reminded that Heavenly Father created the whole Earth. The universe! Worlds without number! He can surely help me and my family obtain a car. He could make a car appear in our driveway, if He wanted! I felt a stronger, renewed faith that something would work out and to trust in Him.

Lesson 1: When you're facing trials, going to the temple helps! :) Simple, but true. One that I seemed to have forgotten momentarily.

Well, when I got home, we refined our plan. Through a lot of creativity, scrimping, and sacrificing, we found a meager allotment for a car that would hopefully get us through the next while. We researched more cars and made appointments to see a few. And we ended up finding something! It's old, but well-maintained, in good condition, and has low mileage. On Monday, we picked it up and it seems like it'll be a decent car. We're getting used to it's quirks, but enjoying that it is a little roomier than our old car for about the same gas mileage, has a working radio, a working parking brake, no oil leaks, and working AC (well we're not enjoying that now, but anticipating that we will enjoy it next summer :)).

As we drove away from our appointment on Saturday night and had made an agreement for the car, I could feel a tangible burden lifted off my shoulders. The Lord truly does provide. On Sunday a friend in our ward, who had no idea what we'd been dealing with, came up and handed me some gas cards because she "thought they might help". She was inspired. By a loving Heavenly Father who knows us and does provide for us.

I know it's easier to look back on things fondly and optimistically once they are over and have "worked out" for the most part. We are certainly in that position somewhat, but we also have some way to go still through some lean, tricky months ahead. But I feel like I've learned a lot about myself in the last week. It's been a tough week - it was on from one thing to the next thing this week. Monday I spent the day running around trying to finish up errands and securing the car for pick-up. Tuesday Elena woke up very sick and Tuesday night we were in the ER with her until the wee hours of Wednesday morning. Wednesday she was much better, but we were still running around trying to tie up loose ends. And this morning, Elena woke up very sick again and we ended up in clinic for the better part of the day trying to figure out what is going on. (We didn't figure it out, but hope that she'll be on the mend soon. Just waiting...) But the Lord has provided for us in these situations as well: an inspired sister-in-law who didn't know what was going on, but randomly messaged me in the middle of the night when we were up worrying about Elena and offered to take Lily so we could go to the hospital; Elena's fever holding off long enough for me to get the new car tested and registered, a last-minute babysitter for Lily this morning when we were hurrying with Elena up to the hospital.

Lesson 2: The Lord provides. He knows us and He loves us and He is aware of our circumstances.

and

Lesson 3: The Lord gives us many different types of trials - big and small - to help us learn about ourselves and perfect our faith. I was feeling pretty good and strong and submissive with all of the "big" things we've gone through in the last two years, but I was knocked. off. my. rocker. by a "mid-sized" trial last week and realized that I still have a lot of things to learn and areas to work on.

And lastly, I just wanted to share some great scriptures I've come across about trials lately. After I finished the Book of Mormon this last time through, I decided that I wanted to study the New Testament. It had been a while and I LOVE the New Testament and really wanted to study the Savior's life and delve into His teachings from His time on earth. And, wow! The New Testament is such a gold mine! I've come across so many amazing insights and truths. There are some really fantastic ones about adversity that I felt like I was discovering for the first time.

Lesson 4: When you're facing trials, go to the scriptures. Good stuff. :)

2 Corinthians 4:8-10, 14-18

8 We are ^atroubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in ^bdespair;

9 ^aPersecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not ^bdestroyed;

10 Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body.

14 Knowing that he which raised up the Lord Jesus shall raise up us also by Jesus, and shall present us with you.

15 For all things are for your sakes, that the abundant grace might through the ^athanksgiving of many redound to the glory of God.

16 For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the ^ainward man is renewed day by day.

17 For our light ^aaffliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and ^beternal ^cweight of glory;

18 While we look not at the things which are ^aseen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not ^bseen are ^ceternal.

2 Corinthians 6:4-10

4 But in all things approving ourselves as the ^aministers of God, in much ^bpatience, in ^cafflictions, in necessities, in distresses,

5 In stripes, in imprisonments, in ^atumults, in labours, in watchings, in fastings;

6 By ^apureness, by knowledge, by ^blongsuffering, by ^ckindness, by the Holy Ghost, by ^dlove unfeigned,

7 By the word of truth, by the power of God, by the ^aarmour of^brighteousness on the right hand and on the left,

8 By honour and dishonour, by evil report and good report: as deceivers, and yet true;

9 As unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and, behold, we live; as chastened, and not killed;

10 As ^asorrowful, yet alway rejoicing; as ^bpoor, yet making many^crich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.

Phillipians 4: 4,6-7

4 Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.

6 ^aBe afflicted for nothing (the footnotes clarify: "Don't be unduly afflicted about anything"); but in every thing by ^cprayer and supplication with ^dthanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.

7 And the ^apeace of God, which passeth all ^bunderstanding, shall ^ckeep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

Phillipians 4:8, 11-13

8 Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are ^atrue, whatsoever things are ^bhonest, whatsoever things are ^cjust, whatsoever thingsare ^dpure, whatsoever things are ^elovely, ^fwhatsoever things are of good report; if there be any ^gvirtue, and if there be any praise,^hthink on these things.

11 Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be ^acontent.

12 I know both how to be ^aabased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.

13 I can do all things through ^aChrist which ^bstrengtheneth me.

Romans 5:3-8

3 And not only so, but we glory in ^atribulations also: knowing that^btribulation worketh ^cpatience;

4 And patience, experience; and experience, hope:

5 And ^ahope maketh not ashamed; because the ^blove of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.

6 For when we were yet without ^astrength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly.

7 For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die.

8 But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet ^asinners, ^bChrist died for us.