A few years ago, when we were living in a ground level apartment, and had just one little toddler, our apartment flooded. The drain backed up into our kitchen, and filled much of the apartment with about 1 and a half inches of disgusting water. Ironically, at the time, Scott and I were teaching the Nursery class in church, and the lesson for the Sunday after our flood was about being thankful for water. Even to little 2 year olds, I knew I could not tell them I was grateful if I wasn't truly feeling it--being honest is really important to me. I remember thinking that Heavenly Father was getting a good laugh out of that. Somehow, I managed to still be grateful for water, even in the midst of feeling like I was frustrated by it, and was able to teach the sweet children about God's creation of the world, and how blessed we are by water.
I feel similar feelings lately. It has been a while (probably months) since I dusted off my piano and cleaned the pictures of my children sitting on top of it. Yesterday, I cleaned them all, and was surprised at how emotional I was when I picked up Gideon's little picture and cleaned it off. I wanted so much to be holding him, and not just a picture of him, and I was taken aback at how I instantly had to suck in my tears.
Some days, the flood of pain is still there, the memories are overwhelming, and I just wish he were here with our family where I could see, hear, and feel him. I still dream of him at night sometimes, and I definitely hurt plenty often. I can see that I am learning from what has happened, the way that losing my son has deepened my perspective and understanding and appreciation of humanity, as well as becoming more keenly aware of the gift of life. I am grateful for the tender moments I did have with him, the brief times I got to sing to him and look into his eyes, and for the few memories my other children have of him. I know they have also grown from the experience, in some ways, especially for my 9 and 12 year old, it made them grow up a little too fast. (So tender--when we watched Big Hero 6, they cried. They know how it feels to lose someone close to you, and they were much more emotionally moved than they would have been.)
I do feel grateful for the gift of Gideon's short life, and for the strong feeling that this life is NOT the end of our existence. I am so grateful for the knowledge in my heart that God answers prayers, even though everything did not work out just as I wanted it to with Gideon. I still truly felt that God listened, and that's why we had any time with him at all. I also truly feel that I will have more answers one day.
Elder David A. Bednar explained a story of a man who drove his truck into the back country to get fire wood, then got stuck (even with 4 wheel drive), and then he loaded the truck with wood anyway and managed to get out. He drew a beautiful parallel about how sometimes the load makes the difference. Loads give us traction, and can help us to move forward when we need. I have felt this load make an immense difference in my life. Each of my children is more dear to me. My time on earth is more precious. Love is a cherished treasure, and love that is reciprocated is beyond measure. The load is still heavy, and it's still not fun to carry around, but as hindsight continues to improve my vision, I can see how far I have come, and how much my family has learned from carrying the load.
It feels like being grateful for water, even when I'm in the middle of a flood.
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