Thankful for bees

This past Sunday, I happened to be walking past the primary room (where the children from ages 3-12 do their Sunday School and learn music) and I overheard a snippet of a lesson being taught.  The woman teaching it was encouraging the children to be grateful in all things (a command found in MANY places in the scriptures, such as 1 Thessalonians 5:18, Alma 7:23, and Psalm 147:7) and she asked them: "Are we thankful for bumblebees?"  The room erupted with varied responses, and I giggled as I walked past.  Many children obviously had a hard time being grateful for bees.  There is this HUGE thing that makes bees really hard to appreciate. They sting.... and it hurts...a lot.  As I walked past again a few minutes later, I could hear different children and teachers pointing out good things that bees do, such as pollinate many trees and plants, and make honey.  I think that they arrived at the conclusion that they could be grateful for bees, even though bees sometimes sting.

I have been thinking about this ALL week long.  Trials sting.  Death, loss, and sickness all sting.  Snowmobiling accidents cause a lot of pain.  These things are hard to be grateful for.  As I look back now, I can see how I am better because of these "stinging" experiences.  Life holds more joy, even while holding more pain.  I relish the time with my family now, more than ever before.  I am so grateful to be able to walk, dance, run, play, lift, and carry babies.  I'm so aware of the difference that one life can make.  These are the honey, the pollination that spreads good things everywhere, and make fruit possible.  I continue to reap the fruits of the lessons I learn from my trials.  They bless me each day, despite the sting.

In the moment of a sting, when it is fresh and throbbing, it's very difficult to be grateful for bees.  The pain supersedes the ability to see all the good that comes from something that would cause it.  As a little time passes, and the pain and swelling lessen, it might only occasionally throb, and then it heals completely.  No scars, no lasting effects, besides the honey and the pollination.  Then it is a little easier to appreciate the bees for the "big picture".

After an accident, an illness, or a loss, the pain is overwhelming.  Given some time, the pain still ebbs and flows, but it doesn't knock you down as much as before.  These types of things don't really heal completely, sometimes they leave behind residual scars or effects.  Our family has learned and adapted to the new normal, where "sad gets into our happy" and where life and family have a deeper meaning to us.  I realized, as I heard the discussion about bees that I am no longer in so much constant, overwhelming pain, that it has become easier to appreciate the good things that have come from it.  I am so glad to be at a point where the pain doesn't constantly supersede my ability to recognize the good influences that have come from the loss, sickness, and accidents I've experienced.  It is a little easier to glimpse the big picture, and appreciate the stings with the good things that have also happened.

So I am thankful for bees.  Happy Thanksgiving!!

Simple faith

I have not blogged in a while, because I have had a difficult time finding words for all that I am feeling.  There are still definitely moments when I just don't have words, whether to express my grief at the loss of my son, or the grief as I hurt with people whose hearts feel truly wounded.  There is much of tension and pain in the world, and much of judging and misjudging, and it saddens me so much.

This particular post is in reference to the reactions to the updates on the handbook of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (also called Mormons).  It has prompted me to do an intense amount of thinking, studying, praying, and soul searching.  I have tried hard to make my thoughts and feelings clear, but I'm sure I'll botch it up.  I'm limited by words, which can't really do my feelings justice.  I will certainly try to explain my feelings, promptings, and thoughts, which are simultaneously very simple and complex.

Simple question: Do I believe God and Jesus Christ are the author of this church?  Absolutely.  It's not a church belonging to apostles, or people, it's God's church.

Simple question: Do I believe the apostles are called of God to lead his church?  Yes.  I've heard them speak and felt their words touch my heart.  They LOVE people, they are kind, good men who encourage each of us to be better than ourselves.

Simple question: Do I believe the scriptures were given by God to direct his children on earth?  Yes.  A man once told me that life is an open book test.  God sent us here with instructions, with a road map.  I want to do all I can to follow it.

It then mostly boils down to this simple question: Is homosexuality a sin?  The scriptures make it clear that homosexuality is a sin (Genesis 19, Leviticus 18:22, 2 Timothy 3:1-5) PAUSE before you call me a "homophobe."  I have both friends and family who are homosexuals...do I fear or hate them because they are sinning??  I think that's preposterous.  I love them lots and lots.  God loves me, and I'm a sinner.  Do I judge them harshly because they are sinners?  NO!!!  I definitely don't want to judge them harshly, because we are told multiple places in the scriptures that the way we judge others will be the way we are judged. (Matthew 7:1-2)  He also reminds us that we should not cast stones if we are sinners. (John 8:1-7)  God will know our hearts and challenges, and judge us fairly, and I'll leave that job to him, I'm sure that I can't do as good a job as He will.  Of course, we have to make some judgements in our day to day life, and again, the scriptures back that up.  We are supposed to judge situations and circumstances to see if they will help us to be good and righteous or not. (Bible: Leviticus 19:15, John 7:24. Luke 12:57.  Book of Mormon Moroni 7: 12-14.)  Back to the first simple question: if I am following Christ and God, then I love all people, especially sinners (which is all of us).  I associate with them, I eat with them, I walk with them, and I also encourage them to become better than who they are (just like I want them to do for me--good friends do help you become your best self.)  I want them to be happy, and I want them to also follow Jesus and choose to follow His commandments, but my love for them is not conditional on their choices.  I appreciate that they want me to be happy, and I may not agree with the way they think I should do it, and I hope they feel the same way.   I hope others want to be with me, even though I'm a sinner, and I am grateful for their love and encouragement, despite my imperfections.

This begs the question: if we desire to associate with all people, all sinners, then why not allow the children of homosexual couples to be baptized until they're 18 years old?  I struggled with this, so I prayed about this.  After all, if it's God's church, and God is my father and hears my prayers, won't He answer them?  This is where He took my thoughts as I have pondered and sought for answers.  Baptism is a commandment, found in multiple places in the scriptures (Matt 3:15-16, Acts 2:38, Alma(Book of Mormon) 7:14).  However, a doctrine that is unique to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Mormon church) is that baptism is a covenant or a promise that we make.  Through baptism, we promise to follow Him, to join with His church, to serve Him, and to mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort (Book of Mormon, Mosiah 18: 8-10 & 13).  It is not a promise to be taken lightly, or a commitment that should be shrugged off when it gets hard, and it does.  (Now I realize that MANY people have entered into this commitment and "dropped the ball", and so have I.  Let's not dwell on the hypocrisy of all humanity, as we strive to be better than what we are, but fall short repeatedly.) 

We believe that it's a serious thing to walk away from knowledge, light, and truth, and that there is increased accountability to God for shrugging off our promises to Him after we've made them.  And living in a home where homosexuality is normal and accepted does strongly contradict the teachings of the Savior.  How difficult would it be to be the person who made a serious commitment to live according to God's commandments, to believe that practicing homosexuality is wrong, and then also live in a home where homosexuality was practiced?  Would the parents approve and be OK with their child's decision?  Could it alienate the child from their family during the years when they need so much support and love?  Wouldn't it cause immense tension?  And won't a child who has joined a church and sees their parental figures sinning in a way that is wholly disapproved by the church have a very difficult time with not judging their parents?  I truly feel that it would put both the child and their parents into an extremely tense and difficult situation, and would definitely make it harder for this child to both keep their serious promises to God and to love and not judge their family, and for their family to feel loved and accepted by them.  So the age at which they can be baptized was moved up to 18 for children in this type of situation.  They are still welcomed (and encouraged) to attend church, to ask for and receive priesthood blessings, and to participate in callings (assignments/responsibilities.)  This will give them time to decide if baptism is truly something they want to commit to, so that they don't commit and walk away, and will give them time to mature a little, so they can learn how to love and not to judge people who make different choices than they are deciding to make.

Honestly, I bet there is more to it than that.  Sometimes we won't understand why God does certain things.  In Isaiah 55:8, the Lord reminds us that his thoughts are not our thoughts, and his ways are not our ways.  I don't understand the ins and outs of everything under creation.  I don't know exactly why the leaders of the church felt prompted to make this a policy, but after I prayed about it I felt better about it.

If it's His church, and we are His children, and He wants what is best for us, He will help us understand.  Perhaps we won't have all the answers today, or tomorrow.  I don't understand why my infant son had to die, why I only had 1 week with him here on earth.  I sure miss him, and I wish it had been part of God's plan to heal him and let him stay here.  I believe, though, that God knows what he is doing, and that one day, I'll understand why, and that I'll actually be grateful to the Lord for the things he put in motion in my life.  I believe that one day, we'll also see this situation through his eyes, and it will make more sense.  In the meantime, I am going to trust his apostles. 

This is not blind faith.  I struggled with the policy when I first heard about it, I hurt for children and families that it may affect.  That is precisely why I spent so much time asking God for help.  I know that God answers prayers, He has answered mine in more times and ways than I can list here.  I know that I've felt the spirit when I've heard the apostles, and that they are kind, loving men who are trying to make the world a better place.  I am trying to follow their example by loving, serving, learning, and reaching to be better than my best each day, and by letting my faith lead me forward on a path to be more like my Savior, who both asked people to follow Him by keeping his commandments (John 14:15), and also who asked us to love one another as He loves us (John 13:34).

Time: a gift

Last week, for no reason I can explain (though I have theories), was very emotional for me.  I have missed my Gideon, I have wondered about who he would be right now, I have longed for the moments I could have been having with him over the last 15 months.  I am longing for the precious gift of time with my little boy.

I have done a lot of thinking about this precious gift, the gift of time.  I realize that I have not understood or appreciated its value nearly so much as I do now.  In some ways, my newfound appreciation for time has been bad for me because I am SUPER irritated when I notice that I am wasting time, or when others waste my time, or when my children are wasting time, because it seems like throwing away a treasure of immeasurable worth.  However, it has also made me more laid back, happy, and forgiving than I used to be.  My time with people here on earth is limited--I don't know HOW limited, but it will end.  I don't want to spend years holding a grudge when I could let it go and be making memories and enjoying happiness with someone.  When my time is up, I hope not to look back and wish I had spent so much of it differently.  So I am more inclined to take extra moments to hug my children, to breathe deeply and check to see if I'm using my "yelling voice" or my "explaining voice" when I talk to them.  I have sought for more opportunities to make memories with my family, and to do better things with the time I've been given.  I treasure the time I have with them, the chance I have to get to know who they are, to help build relationships with them.

Time is a gift that I took for granted for a long time.  It is something I never gave full credit to.  I am somewhat disappointed as I look back at moments that I could and should have chosen to use differently.  Sometimes it is a rather painful awareness, seeing the many moments I didn't treasure.  I try not to waste too much time looking back, as it's impossible to change what has already been done, but there is no harm in learning from the past and trying to make the most out of the present and future.  I am trying to give this precious gift its due respect and attention.

I also treasure time spent with my other loved ones.  Don't get me wrong though, and misjudge me as a flowery lovey dovey soul.  Every day does not come filled with chocolate, bunnies, and roses; there are still days when my children are sick, my husband and I get frustrated with each other, or people irritate me.  I have discovered a new ability to appreciate the bad and frustrating moments, though, right along with the good ones.  These moments are helping me grow, helping me get to know my family members, giving me the chance to serve, that I might not have otherwise had.

I don't think I will ever look back on the one week I had with my infant son and feel like it was enough time.  I am sometimes haunted by the moments I didn't spend with him.  I wish I had held him longer, gone to the NICU in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep, but I didn't.  I can't go back...just forward.  Time ticked and passed whether I was using it to build relationships and memories, to grow and learn, to serve or help, or whether I used it on frivolous pursuits.  (I wince as I think of watching TV during that week of Gideon's life...what a waste.)

Good relationships are a treasure beyond compare; they lend strength, color, depth, and happiness to life. Healthy relationships (the kind that inspire each person to reach for their potential) should be nurtured, guarded, valued, and appreciated.  They don't grow without an investment of time.  Being present in the moment, making memories together, serving one another, creating together...I wish I had realized sooner how much of a gift all of these things are.

I think, when someone we love dies, what hurts the most is that longing for more time with them.  I don't think it matters whether they are 2 days, 2 years, 2 decades or 102 years old.  We hope they know how much we loved them, and often wish for the chance to tell them plainly about our feelings.  We wish for more memories, for the chance to give (and receive) another hug, another touch, and we wish we would be able to nurture our relationship with them more.  I felt that way when each of my grandfathers died, and when my son died.

In some ways, the choice of using time wisely, choosing not to be truly engaged in building up the things that matter most in life is similar to the Bible story where Esau sells his birthright for a mess of pottage.  Our birthright, what we are God given is the chance to learn and grow to be like him, to love deeply, to serve others, to gain knowledge and wisdom.  We can choose to use our time to try to become more like him, growing, loving, serving, working hard, creating, or we can choose to use it on other things....things that don't really matter, and aren't of lasting value.

I wanted to find a scripture that communicated this idea.  Two came close, but can't quite put it into words the way I want them to. Deuteronomy 30:19 says "I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live;"  More than ever, I want to live, to really live.  I don't want to throw away precious time, precious relationships, precious opportunities.   2 Nephi 9:13-14 in the Book of Mormon talks about God's plan for us, and how when we're resurrected we'll have a perfect knowledge of our guilt or a perfect knowledge of our joy and righteousness.

My time is limited.  As with all resources, choices have to be made, there is no way to go into debt on time, and whether I have to stand before God or whether I just have to stand and face myself in the mirror, I am very determined to be using time to do things that will matter to me for the rest of my life.  I want to choose my life and feel happy about it, to look back and be glad I used the gift of time to build up and enhance other wonderful treasures in my life.

Blessings and trials

What an emotional week this has been!  I have tried hard with this blog to keep it real, to express both my grief and my joy, to share in the things I am learning about myself and my family, and to explore the growth that I see in myself and in my husband and children.  It seems like a week that should have been so full of happiness, but I surprisingly found it to be very bittersweet.

Let me explain a little about a baby blessing.  In my religion, when a baby is 1 to 2 months old, we gather to bless a baby (similar to a christening), to give the child a name, and a priesthood blessing.  Worthy males who hold the priesthood gather, the spokesperson (often the baby's father or grandfather) holds the baby and the others form a circle including him and the child.  Similarly to a prayer, the spokesperson addresses Heavenly Father, gives the child a name, and then give a blessing based on the feelings and impressions they receive.  I believe in the power of priesthood blessings, I have had them pronounced on my own head (in times of need, it is absolutely acceptable to ask for a blessing) and I have heard answers to prayers that I had not explained to anyone else.  I have been told things that have made it clear to me that The Lord has heard my prayers, my concerns and desires.

Today was Miriam's baby blessing day.  Our family gathered at our home afterward to have a celebration luncheon, and so this week has been a week of preparing.  It has been a good excuse and motivator for me to clean and organize more thoroughly than usual, but during all the organizing, sorting, and cleaning I have had a lot of time to think about all the "whoop and holler" that surrounds a special baby blessing.  I have told many people in the past that I have thought it a silly tradition to gather at the home of a new mother and father, who are most likely getting the least sleep of any in the bunch.  It is highly illogical (and I like logic a lot, but not so much that I have let it stop me from having 6 babies.)  However, I was so excited to share this day with our family.  I have been beyond excited....perhaps "elated" would be a better word.

I have experienced a whole different "no frills" version of a baby blessing, and this was far better.  Gideon's blessing came with no frills and no fuss.  We knew he probably wouldn't live long, and we wanted the chance to give him a blessing before he passed away.  He did not have a circle of priesthood holders, just his father and our dear Bishop who made a special trip to the hospital to support us and to be there for that moment.  His blessing was given to him in his incubator bed, and there was no family gathering afterward, just quiet crying from Scott and I.

So as I have cleaned my house this week, I have been so grateful for the chance to celebrate our baby with many of the people we love and cherish.  I have been happy to put in extra time, effort, and money into a gathering, despite a little tiredness.  But I have been reminded as I have cleaned the floor and washed walls and etc. of all the things that I didn't get to do to celebrate Gideon's life.  His funeral was our big family gathering after his birth....  I sat on my kitchen floor and cried this week.  I miss him.  I wish I knew more about him, I realize what a gift time is with our loved ones, and I felt robbed of time with him.  I wish I could have taken living pictures of him in a little white suit, instead of just pictures after his death.  It was a hard week of preparing, but it was also "cleansing" to get the chance to celebrate a life again.

My sweet and talented grandmother made this blessing dress, and I treasure it.  Even though she is 80+, she still creates beautiful things and shares them with her children and grandchildren and great grandchildren.  I'm so happy to have this beautiful creation of hers.  She had also made the tuxedo that we buried Gideon in.  She's so amazingly talented that after coming to see him in the NICU and being there for his blessing day, she created a tiny tux which fit him, and sent it to us in time for his funeral.  She put it together in less than a week.

I am so grateful for the chance I had to share my thoughts and feelings with my family.  I'll try to do a separate post later about what I said, but mainly I talked about precious things in my life, gifts that the Lord has blessed me with that I have sometimes taken for granted, and I talked about how my perspective has changed, causing me to realize how dear and special so many things are in my life.  Scott was also able to share his testimony of trusting in the Lord, knowing that God has a reason for what we are going through.  D&C 6:36 is our family's scripture to ponder this week "Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not."  Scott's testimony declared the Lord's loving plan for each of us, which sometimes involves pain, struggles, and questions, but which also involves us learning and growing, shaped by him to become who he wants us to be.

Miriam has been (and will continue to be) a healing balm in our lives, and will be close to Gideon.  She was blessed to be in tune with the needs of those around her and to be able to comfort and help in ways that aren't always obvious.  It was a beautiful blessing, but it was so hard, remembering and wishing we'd have been able to have these moments with our Gideon too.  We have thought of him so much this week.

I don't know if it's normal for people to feel so much emotion with their "rainbow baby" but I certainly do.  I have treasured more moments than ever before, but felt such a sense of longing for moments with the one I sent home to heaven.  I feel confident in the Lord, though I still don't understand why our experiences have been chosen for us.  I feel very blessed by my family, even as I miss my son deeply.  I have shed many tears this week, many of them in gratitude for the chance to have these moments with my Miriam, and some of them in sadness for the moments I didn't get to have with my Gideon.

Rainbow baby

 Here in the Wasatch Front, the air gets pretty dirty.  Pollution and dirt and dust collect in the huge valley surrounded by all the mountains.  I love the clarity that comes right after rain, when I can look out my window and see mountains clear across Salt Lake, a VERY long way away.   I love the way the world smells after a rain storm, it's so fresh and clean and delightful.  Sometimes I am lucky enough to witness a rainbow near the end of a storm, and sometimes not, but there is definitely a clarity and crispness in the air, and a scent of life, and freshness.

I hadn't heard the term "rainbow baby" until I was in the hospital delivering Miriam.  Of course my nurses asked about previous pregnancies and so we explained about Gideon.  She said "Oh--this is your rainbow baby." and I have loved the term since.

Not that I would wish a loss on anyone, but I have never loved having a newborn so much before, and I appreciate the joy that I feel with this one compared to the others.  I almost feel guilty for how much I didn't enjoy the others, because I am so delighted with her.  I was so tired from time spent feeding, changing, and rocking the baby, and so I didn't see past the exhaustion.  Now my overriding emotion is gratitude.  I'm still tired, but I'm also so grateful for the chance to feed, change, and rock her.  Hearing her cry at first was such a blessing, and I still sometimes laugh when she is crying, because I'm just so happy to be with her, to have had this last six weeks to hold her and love her, to see her beginning to smile, and to get to understand who she is (she's a good eater who doesn't like to have a dirty bum, and she's a sucker for a snuggle from her Daddy, who can almost always calm her down.)

Miri is a delightful little rainbow.  We actually had 2 storms before she joined us...not many people know, but we miscarried one before Gideon was conceived. 

I loved the beautiful way these photographers captured rainbow babies and their mothers.  There is some amazing joy here, so perhaps grab a tissue. 
Photographers capture Rainbow Babies www.littlethings.com

Losing a child really can feel like weathering a rough storm.  It is dark, dreary, and scary.  It can be really disorienting and disrupt daily life.  It's a storm so rough that an umbrella doesn't cut it...I know that storms really don't end completely, there are still moments of dark, disorienting, disruptive dreariness, and a longing that I can't explain--even with my baby in my arms.  It feels less like a constant torrential downpour, and more like a cloudburst as part of a normal weather pattern.  I anticipate that these "cloudbursts" will continue for most of my life.  (In fact, the other day, we took our kids out for fast food, and at the playland, a boy was calling to his little brother, whose name happened to be Gideon.  We left with me in tears.)  That being said, the storm is not severe all the time, and there is a clarity that has come from weathering it; my perspective has broadened, I feel like I can see more now.  It's like when I can see the mountains in the distance after a rain storm--they were already there, I just couldn't see them before the storm cleaned the air.  And our rainbow baby truly feels like a miracle.  Life is precious...all life, whether a baby is a rainbow baby or not, a baby is a miracle.  I love her so much, and I love time I spend with her, even if it's diaper changing, sleep lost, or fussy time.  She has added color and beauty to our world, and I marvel at the miracle she is.

Cranky and tired, but I have a plan to soften my heart

Firstly, I'll update on the status of things here in our home.  Our baby is doing well, she's quite a good eater, and growing like she should.  She's begun to do slightly longer stretches at night, sometimes going 4 or 5 hours between feedings, so I'm still tired, but it's not so bad.  Holding her feels so good to my heart, and I am pretty certain she's held and doted on more than any of my other babies (and not just by me, as anyone who has watched my husband with her can attest.)  It is sometimes hard, I look down at her face and can see the resemblance she has to my other children, even to Gideon.  It makes me miss him, and wonder how he'd be doing by now likely uttering his first words, walking, and curious and into everything.  It also makes me so grateful for the chance I have to nurse and snuggle her, even to hear what her cry sounds like.  I sometimes wonder as I see her focus on places in the room where no-one is standing. if she can see Gideon, and hope he knows that we love him and miss him still.

That's not what I intended to blog about today, though.

I have teased people about borrowing my children when they need to understand their scriptures.  Not because my children know and understand so much, but because they aren't afraid to stop and ask questions.  If we read a word or phrase they (or we) don't understand, instead of skipping past it, we talk about it, guess at its meaning, and seek for ways to understand it.  Often, as we attempt to understand things and spend a little time pondering, our minds and hearts open up, and we gain insights.  I understand my scriptures way better as I read them to and with my children.  (Says the Mom who is going on 3 nights in a row of skipping family scripture study because it got too late and the kids need sleep--and so do I.)

On one of these "break it down" moments, as we talked about hard hearts, I stumbled upon a great metaphor for life.  Our hearts are like playdoh, and God is the creator.  He's trying to shape us, to create some awesome stuff.  Playdoh is perfect right out of the box, but just from being out in the world, it starts to dry up, just as we tend to become more tough and hardened by the world.  This is easily remedied with a few drops of water after playing with it--and as we make sure we partake of daily living water (scripture study/prayer/spiritual experiences), we keep our hearts soft and easily shaped.  Another way to keep playdoh in good shape is to make sure it's container (it's home) is sealed well (a holy place where the world can't get in and dry it all up.) Occasionally, the playdoh gets quite dry, and it takes more water to help it be able to be used.  And sometimes, it's just so hard, there's not much to be done besides start over with new playdoh.  Hard playdoh can't be shaped--it MUST be softened before anything can be done with it.

Several times in 1 Nephi, Nephi explains about his brothers' hard hearts.  It makes sense that no matter the amazing tools the Lord was using to try and shape their lives (Liahona, seeing an angel, witnessing miracles, a father who was a prophet), nothing worked.  Their playdoh needed to be softened first.  And occasionally, they did add water, the spirit touched them.  They just never maintained the habit of adding living water, so their hearts dried right back up again.

This is a cautionary tale for me as much as anyone.  I noticed today (after a few days in a row of falling short on my scripture study) that I have a very testy temper, I feel not like my best, most patient self.  Once I realized that I am not being as nice as usual, I started thinking about what I needed to do to fix it.  Sleep would help, but I've been running on lack of sleep for many weeks now, and I knew that wasn't the only culprit.  I tried to remember how many days it has been since I did good scripture study, and it's been a few (less than a week, but several days) and my prayers have been more sporadic and not as deep (again--tiredness taking its toll).  I remembered about the playdoh, and I know I need to do better, to get myself back where I want to be, where the Lord can shape me and help me be what he knows i can become.  I need to do better about adding living water into my life each day, more so now, with the tiredness than before.

Another part of the parable that applies particularly right now is that playdoh dries out faster in different temperatures/climates than others.  Heat/dry air will definitely take a toll faster than cold/wet air.  Some days are harder on our spirits than others.  Gideon's grave marker finally was put in at his grave site, and it was hard for both Scott and I to see it.  It's not news...but there's still such a finality in seeing his grave marker, all that it represents, and all that we're missing.  I need the scriptues and the spirit and prayer in my life MORE on days like that, but I neglected them, and I can tell by my crankiness.

ALSO, I promised I'd share a picture of Gideon's grave marker, and it's finally here.  This grave marker is bigger than he was (he was tiny).  I find myself out of words when I see it, it is heavy in more ways than one....so I'll just leave its picture at the end.

Two roads diverged...and my life now

Yesterday, as I was going through our poetry unit with Ethan, we had a discussion about Robert Frost's poem "The Road Not Taken", which caused me to stop and ponder.  Ethan didn't know what hit him as I had a good cry while we discussed choices and memories and looking back.

I'm pretty sure that if you are my friend, you have read this poem. BUT--for those of you who still want to be my friend and have not read it...it is here for your reading enjoyment, and for a broadening of your horizons, and a deepening of your soul. 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

I particularly thought about the moment when the doctors told us that Gideon's condition was most likely lethal, and when they asked if we wanted to permanently prevent having children in the future.  I had four healthy children, and the chances of us having another child with the same problems as Gideon were higher than other couples.  I considered it, I contemplated taking that road....  I looked at my two choices, down each road "as far as I could".  Both roads looked fair, but which path was the one I truly wanted?  I decided the road of "being done" was not the road I wanted to go down, even though it is a road MANY people would travel.  And it's NOT a bad road to travel, I am not judging anyone who would have chosen differently than I did.  For me, though, it was not the path I wanted to take.  We all have to follow different paths.  As Miriam celebrates one month, I think of the difference I am seeing in my life already.  I think of the weight I carried during pregnancy (and I'm not talking about the pounds/kilos), but the worry.  It was a hard pregnancy emotionally, and there were times I wondered if I had chosen the right path.  I knew that I had felt strongly about the path I chose, and I had to trust in those feelings as doubt and worry crept in.  Now I can see the way my children adore their sister, the way her presence encourages peace and happiness in our home.  It feels like it has been "ages and ages" and looking back, as hindsight lends depth to my ability to understand, I can understand why this road was the right road for me, and I'm grateful I trusted that feeling.  It is only one of many paths I have chosen when presented with "two roads" literally and figuratively.  When our family goes to visit National Parks, we carefully consider which hikes we'll take, how far we can go, and what we want to see.  We've seen and experienced so many glorious things, no matter which paths we choose, but I've rarely started a hike and regretted it.  (Only once that I can think of, every other time I've been so pleased at all I have seen and experienced.)  No matter which path, which hike, there are beautiful things to experience, and I'm grateful for the paths I have taken, even though sometimes I look back and wonder what the "other roads" may have led to.  My sister and I at Arches National Park 2013 Bryce Canyon National Park 2014 With National Parks, I know I can go back and do those other hikes another day.  With life, the decisions are permanent; there is no going back.  I feel confident, though, that the Lord is helping guide me down the path, and I know that if He's the one leading, the journey will end in an amazing destination.  I also feel confident that when He leads, I won't regret it. Life is good.  Today, I enjoyed the scent of baking cinnamon rolls as I also felt the crisp and cool cleanness of a sky fresh from rain, and I was so grateful for life, for the senses I have to experience life with.  I enjoyed snuggling my baby, I enjoyed reading to my 4 year old, and laughing with him.  I treasured the delight of my 7 year old as she discovered that the tooth fairy had come for her first tooth, and I enjoyed the expression on her 10 year old brother's face, as he tried not to spoil the secret for her.  My 12 year old is such a confident kid, and even though beginning an instrument has it's "ugly" sounds, as I listened to him practice today, I could absolutely hear the difference in his skills compared to a month ago.  I think he can hear it too, and is excited for his own growth and improvement.  I love watching my children experience life, and I particularly adore watching them enjoy their new sister, they are so eager to help and to hold her.  I--I took the one less traveled by, and it has made all the difference.