Being grateful for a heavy load

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.

What are you looking for?

A few weeks before the entire pregnancy with Gideon exploded into a whirlwind of bad news, early delivery, and the loss of our baby, I watched Pollyanna with my kids.  I am SO glad that I did, because the "glad game" became a lifesaver for me.  I found reasons to be happy in the situation, even though I was still sad too.

I have reflected much on my life, and about point of view since that time.  I am VERY aware that a person can be happy and sad, and the mixed flavors of my emotions have added new dimensions into my life.  I am grateful for the perspective, even though getting there has not been fun.  There are moments when the pain sneaks up on me and I still have overwhelmed moments.  In some ways, they are not as frequent as when he first passed away, but I think they have gotten more stealthy and potent, especially as time has gone on.  He was born July 25, he would have been 9 months old on April 25th.  He was born premature, so he would have possibly only acted like a 6 or 7 month old developmentally, but still, I know there are milestones he would have reached by now.  I would have been able to feed him solid foods, and watch him make faces and so much mess.  I miss that.  Even my 4 year old has enough knowledge and understanding to realize "Mom, we never got to hear how Gideon's voice would sound.  Are you sad for Gideon?" 

All the same, I have been able to find reasons to be happy, because I am looking for them.  I am searching to find God in all of this, to find perspective, and I am finding it.  I have felt guided and inspired at the words to explain to my children when they ask questions.  I have had scriptures and hymns come to my mind to bring me comfort when I needed it.  My spirit and mind have been strengthened with a sensitivity to truth, I feel it deeper now than ever before.  My hope and faith in God's plan for Earth and for his children have grown immensely, and I am trying harder to trust him because I truly know he has all the answers.

I have tried to find scriptures to help me express this.  Here is one from Doctrine and Covenants 98 verses 1,2, & 3.  (Doctrine and Covenants is a transcription of various revelations given to Joseph Smith and a few other prophets.  Many times, when reading scripture or encountering a problem, Joseph (or other prophets) would go to the Lord and ask for counsel.  They recorded and later shared the words and revelations given.)  "Verily, I say unto you my friends, fear not, let your hearts be comforted; yea, rejoice evermore and in everything give thanks; waiting patiently on the Lord, for your prayers have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are recorded with this seal and testament--the Lord hath sworn and decreed that they shall be granted.  Therefore, he giveth this promise to you, that they shall all be fulfilled; and all things wherewith ye have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name's glory, saith the Lord."


I love the promises there, and they feel true to me.  I have searched for comfort and found it in truth.  Earth did not "spontaneously" exist--it has a creator.  He loves his creations and wants us to grow and progress, to become all we can be.  He had a plan for us to be able to do just that, and it involves the creation of families that can last forever.  Death, sadness, sickness, and wickedness exist in this world because he allows us and others to make choices, and because with that opposition, we are learning how good it will be to NOT have those things in the world one day.  If we had a life where everything was perfect, but we could not make choices for ourselves, we never would have learned or appreciated all that goodness can offer us.  I truly feel that our spirits existed before we were here, and that they continue to exist after.  There will be a resurrection, and we will get to experience that perfection--a body that will no longer be sick and die, and we will get to experience life with no wickedness and evil.  I do not have to fear, my heart takes comfort in this plan, and though it takes patience to wait for the plan to be unfolded, I am promised that God heard my prayers for Gideon's life.  I am grateful to know that those prayers mattered--that they just "didn't count" because they weren't meant to be.  God records them, the Lord has a plan to answer those prayers, and it will be a sweet joy to be with my son again one day.

I digress--this post wasn't intended to be my witness of God's plan, though that is part of what I have seen as I have looked for a broader perspective.  I have been thinking about how we find what it is that we are looking for.  If I choose to look for reasons why this is unfair, I can find them.  It is a slippery slope, one that I have tried mostly to avoid, because it hurts more than finding the growth, love, and learning I am experiencing because of what has happened.  I could find reasons to be angry, not just with God, but with my husband, with my children.  I could find ways to blame this problem on many: doctors, nurses, medications, my kids who stress me out sometimes, my husband who was very tentative about another baby, and until we knew we were losing him, didn't realize how much he loved our little guy.  I COULD let this destroy who I am. 

If you look back at my posts, you will even see that there are times I have been offended when well meaning people have asked questions like "Do you feel like you are getting over it?"  The offense is unintentional, and it is what I am looking for that makes the difference.  If I want to be upset and hurt, then I have a reason.  If I want to see that someone is wondering if I am healing and finding ways to go on with life, then I have a reason.  I am trying to look for the good and kind intentions, which eliminates most offense I would ever take.

My thoughts about "what am I looking for?" have spread to other aspects of my life.  I have begun to see that everyone sees what they are looking for.  People disagree about who should lead our country, about different laws that are passed or are being considered, and are very polarized about many issues.  We see what we are looking for, and so very rarely do we attempt to look at things by taking a step back and seeing both sides of the issue, or even more amazing step back would be trying to see what God and Satan might see of the issue.  We get offended over meaningless things, because we are looking to be offended.

I have seen great and bad things come from the feminist movement.  I have seen great and bad things come from the LGBT movement.  I have seen great and bad things come from people who are preaching religion, and from those who are listening to it.  Technology is amazing, but it has the power to transmit evil into everyone's hands.  Anti-vaccination movements are lately causing quite a stir.  Are any of these inherently evil?  No. 

I know people who are very polarized on any and all of these issues.  I love you all, and I honestly think that since Gideon's death, I am able to love you all even more.  Out of necessity, I have needed to take a step back from a "right here, right now" perspective and tried to look at things from a broader perspective.  That is what has enabled me NOT to search only for reasons why this is unfair and reasons to be angry or offended.  Because of that step back, I am seeing more perspective on both sides of so many issues.  I sometimes find it very enlightening, and sometimes confusing, as I think most times, the truth lies somewhere in the middle of the polar opposites, or in some broader understanding that our human and mortal selves do not see.  There is more to almost every story, a depth to each truth that we do not see or understand always.  I want to see and understand more, to be able to step back farther and examine many things from both sides.  My mortality limits this to some extent, but I am amazed at what keeping an open mind does for one's perspective.  (And I highly recommend that more people do it.)

In multiple scriptures, we are commanded to "Judge not, that ye be not judged."  We are also given commandments, requirements, and recommendations on how to live our lives in the best way.  It is sometimes a tricky balance to live a life trying diligently to keep the commandments, and also to not judge those who may not be making those same choices.  Judging comes very easily to most of us as mortals--it's probably why we have to be told so many times "judge not".  People are always judging others, people driving faster than they are, people driving slower than they are, people who support gay marriage, people who oppose gay marriage, people who believe vaccines are unsafe.  Everybody has a tendency to judge.  Don't.  Don't.  Don't.  We don't see it all.  We can't see it all.  We don't have to see it all, and truly, we'd probably be overwhelmed by being able to see it all. 

God sees it all.   He looks at our hearts, our motives, our choices, and knows.  He knows if we were trying to offend someone, if we were choosing selfishly, or if our actions were misguided or even an attempt at something good.  Just as His plan is perfect, and will allow me to be with my son again one day, the chance to grow into the best person I can be as I learn from tragedy, sickness, and death, His judgement is perfect.  His thoughts are higher than our thoughts, and His ways are higher than our ways.  (Isaiah 55:8)  As I have asked him for perspective, I have grown in the ability to see multiple sides to each issue, in the ability to love people on both sides.  I believe that it is a part of my journey to learn to understand people, and to love people, and I believe God is helping me to find what I am looking for.

John 7:17 and chopsticks

I have a bizarre gift at finding similarities between simple everyday things and the way we are to understand things on a deeper spiritual plane.  This week, it came as I watched my children attempt to use chopsticks for the first time.

Let it be said now that I am no master of chopsticks.  I have marveled that anyone is able to make regular use of them, and I would love to be better at using them, but I simply have not put in the time and effort to learn, and the learning curve has never really been worth it to me, when a fork, spoon, and knife are so readily available most of the time.

I was reading in the Bible this week, and came upon John 7:17 (again.) "If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself."  I have been familiar with this verse for many years, but it hit me in a new way as I compared it to chopsticks.  My oldest son was trying to show my other children how simple chopsticks would be, based on the instructions on the outside of the package.  A few simple steps, right?  I smiled to myself, knowing that the results are not as easy to achieve as they are to read about.  And then it hit me.

Results in life are not nearly as easy to achieve as they are to read about.  It's not really too hard to read scriptures, to hear words of counsel from someone, but it's a whole new game when you have to put them into action and get good at them.  You can't know understand how chopsticks work just by looking at a package, or by googling the instructions, or by watching someone else use them, anymore than you can learn to play the piano by reading about it or watching an accomplished concert pianist perform. 

Putting it into action is what yields understanding, but not always immediately.  There is a learning curve, and sometimes we grow impatient with that learning curve and decide it isn't really worth it, and go back to our proverbial knife, fork, and spoon.  We like familiarity, even if it doesn't always lend itself to our skill set and broaden our horizons.

I am probably not going to spend the required amount of time to become an amazing chopstick user.  I may give it a more honest shot on occasion, but it's truly not a high priority to me.  However, I am going to try to be more dedicated to putting God's word to the test in my life, rather than giving up after a few futile attempts and deciding I just wasn't meant to obey those commandments.  Gaining a testimony of his love, of his knowledge of me, and that his plan for his children brings happiness is probably worth a lot more to me than the use of chopsticks is, and consequently, the learning curve will probably be a little harder.  Skills and knowledge don't come without a learning curve, without time and effort, and persistence.

I think it's time to put down the fork, and take more leaps of faith.

Happy mash up

On the day we did our ultrasound, we were able to meet with the same doctor who referred us to the University of Utah hospital after an ultrasound he had performed.  He had recognized that Gideon's problem had gotten very serious, and knew our baby was going to need specialists after delivery.  He also suspected that they would need to deliver him early, to attempt saving his life.  He asked if we minded telling him the "rest" of the story.  He knew from my medical file that we had lost our son, and that we were in a new pregnancy.  In many ways, it was a great segue into the ultrasound of our coming daughter.  Telling him what happened with Gideon, about the warnings we got from the genetic counselors at U of U, hearing his reassurances that, though our chances of seeing this problem were increased as compared with "normal" couples, they were still only 2-3 %, and then experiencing the conclusion--an ultrasound showing a very normally developing daughter, made the experience one full of emotion.  I feel happy and sad, excited and a little bit guilty for being so excited, because I know if Gideon had been healthy, we wouldn't be having this baby, and I hope he knows that we love him just as much, even though he was not a healthy little guy.

I appreciated our doctor and the ultrasound tech who did the initial ultrasound taking extra time to look and measure, to explain every little thing.  I know how to look for pockets of fluid now (had a little practice recognizing them with Gideon) and the tech was great about saying things like "There's a perfectly normal pocket of fluid in the developing brain."  They offered to do more ultrasounds, just for our reassurance and peace of mind, even though medically there are no flags that indicate she will need further ultrasounds.  I appreciated their consideration of my feelings and understanding how panicky and paranoid mothers can get after they have gone through a tragedy like ours.  My own OBGYN has also been stupendous at reassuring me, doing ultrasounds every time, and will be doing an ultrasound each time going forward, for my own comfort, so I can see her moving and growing and so I will have each visit to begin to make memories of her.

  Here she is just a wiggling away.

 

Even though I am thrilled that everything looks healthy, I still catch myself wondering if things are going to be OK.  I wonder if I'll have her really early and we'll have to do the NICU again, I wonder if something could develop incorrectly, if she might just stop growing.  I think that I am getting better at "breathing" (see the last post) through the difficulty and pushing forward no matter what happens, but I can't seem to completely walk away from all the doubts and worries.  I do have more hope now, and more reassurance than I have felt since the beginning of the pregnancy.

 

That day, I felt so happy, and my kids did too.  My youngest living child (age 4) was singing a mash up of several different upbeat songs as we ate lunch that day.  His sequence went like this:  "We will, we will rock you!  Let it go, let it go!  'Cause I'm so happy....happy...happy....Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!"   Then he started to mix them up like "We will, we will ghostbust you."  No kidding. 

 

 I smiled and thought that my heart felt like that in some ways.  I felt so much relief and happiness that it's like my brain was schizophrenic with happiness.  Unable to dwell on just one happy thought, I floated from excitement about another daughter, to thoughts of watching a healthy baby in our ultrasound, to missing my Gideon but feeling like he sent this child to comfort me, to loving my happy 4 year old who was singing his heart out in a mash up to beat all mash ups.  I felt so much love and support from my husband who took part of the day off so that he could be there for our ultrasound, and who has been so understanding through all the emotions of two pregnancies within a year, and the loss of our child.  He usually tries to come to that big ultrasound, because it's pretty cool, and fun to find out what the baby is, but especially after our last scary experience, he wanted to be present to hear what the doctors would tell us about our baby, and to be there for me in case we got bad news.  I felt the love and strength of many of my family and friends, who I know have been praying with us for a long time, but especially since Gideon.  My heart was mashing up all these awesome feelings.

 

Later on Monday, a friend of mine posted the song "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" to my facebook timeline.  That was fitting for my heart, for my emotions.  I did a dance to that song when I was in 2nd grade, and have enjoyed it ever since.  It swirled in to the mash of songs that I had heard my son sing earlier, and it made me smile to know that she was happy for me too.

 

My little happy Hyrum has been asking this week to hear Gideon's song, so today we played it and sang along and looked at pictures of ourselves with Gideon.  He loved seeing pictures with himself and Gideon together.  Here are Scott and I trying to get our happy (and somewhat jumpy crazy) Hyrum to be very gentle with his very fragile little brother.  Hyrum was such a champ, he did really well in the hospital, and was so careful when he touched and kissed and held his brother.  Hyrum still remembers, and whenever we listen to the song, he says "Awww, I'm sad for Gideon."

It is good, but sometimes hard to swim through those memories.  I don't want to forget him, I don't want my children to forget him, I am so glad he joined our family and for the precious moments we had with him.  We truly were able to enjoy time as a family with him, and that is a gift I can't measure.  Tangible gifts since then have felt small and incomparable.  It does hurt to miss him, to wonder how he would be doing now, if he'd be rolling and crawling, how his laugh would have sounded, and what would he have delighted in?  I don't like having to wait for those treasures, and looking at his pictures makes me ache a little, but I also feel joy and hope blended in, because I truly believe I will get to have those moments one day, and I'm grateful to my Heavenly Father and to Jesus for making that possible.  Since Gideon, the mash ups of my emotions have an increasingly broad range, sad mixed with hope and happy, excitement mixed with tentativeness, and I'm beginning to grow used to it.  It's part of my everyday life now, but to anyone listening, they may hear a strange sounding mash up--sort of like "Who you gonna call?  Happy....happy.....We will, we will rock you!  Zip-a-dee-doo-dah!  The cold never bothered me anyway."  

Holding my breath

Little known fact: when I was in high school, I took a weight training class.  It was one of those "I had to take something for P.E. and that was what was available when I could fit it into my schedule, so I'll go and make the best of it" type classes, not an "I want to go watch cute guys lift weights" type thing.  (That is SOOO not the type of girl I am or ever was.)  One thing that was a struggle was to train myself NOT to hold my breath when I was lifting.  I was very inclined to hold my breath (and I understand that's a fairly common instinct.)  Learning to breathe properly while lifting /working muscles took a lot of concentration and effort.

I often catch myself proverbially "holding my breath" since Gideon passed away.  For example, during the week he was alive, I sometimes worried and wondered so much, I felt like I was holding my breath.  Some days, I really miss him a lot and it is actually hard to breathe when my heart hurts so much.  And being pregnant again, I am anxious a lot.  I worry and wonder, way more than I ever used to.

Our big ultrasound is coming up on Monday.  I always "brace myself" for bad news at doctor's visits now.  So far, this baby has been healthy and normal, and this pregnancy has gone fairly smoothly, but every time I have to go to the doctor, I feel a little bit like I'm holding my breath.  When I see the baby on the monitor, and hear her (yes--it looked like a girl the last time, we'll find out for sure on Monday) heartbeat, it makes me feel such relief that I almost cry every time.  As I walk out, I feel like I'm finally breathing after holding my breath for a long time.

Every pregnancy up until this one, I was so excited for the big ultrasound.  Seeing all the details, watching all the measurements, observing my baby move for over a half an hour while they check for 10 fingers and toes and all the body functions is such a delight to me.  Except that when I was pregnant with Gideon, that visit is where we learned that he had a blockage between his kidneys and his bladder.  It started out as a minor thing, and typically a problem that either resolves itself or is resolved with surgery after baby is born, and so the doctors really didn't make a big deal about it.  They gave us info about the problem, and we were scheduled for some follow up visits, because sometimes the problem gets worse (and it did).

All through the pregnancy, but especially this week leading up to our ultrasound, I've wondered how I'll handle it if this baby has problems--especially if they are similar to Gideon's.  Even minor problems can become major, I know that from personal experience.  I don't want to go through it all again, and I hope I don't have to.  I felt strongly that we were not done after Gideon, and I have prayed hard for a willingness to do whatever was asked of me.  I knew the next pregnancy would be hard, I sometimes feel like I am trying not to go crazy with worry.  I want to allow myself to hope, but I don't want to be surprised by bad news, especially not devastating news.  I am trying hard to hope and believe that all will be well, but I keep catching myself expecting the worst, and waiting to hear bad news, and then being overwhelmed with relief when everything is fine.  Everything has looked really healthy at every visit so far, and if it is a girl, the chances of her having the same problems as Gideon is much lower.  My eyes filled up with tears at the last one, when the ultrasound showed kidneys that looked normal and what looked like a little girl.  And yet, as we approach the official ultrasound, I catch myself being agitated all over again.  I am so worried that the doctor will be wrong, that the problem will develop, that this baby will break my heart again.

As I tried to find a way to explain how I feel before every doctor's visit to Scott earlier this week, the closest comparison I could think of was holding my breath when I was lifting, or holding my breath while I am swimming, instead of breathing properly.  I haven't really thought of my weight training class in years, but the comparison has helped me to step back and see it a little bit less emotionally.  There are reasons for breathing properly when lifting--it helps your blood pressure to be more regulated, you have more control, you are much less likely to become light headed and pass out, and breathing deeply and regularly is a good habit and a mental exercise that is very good for you (like in yoga).

When I thought of the comparison, it dawned on me that going through trials and hard times is not too different than lifting weights or swimming hard.  As I have continued to think about it, I have noticed more similarities.  It requires some preparation and strength beforehand.  It's best not done alone, someone you trust should be spotting you or observing just in case.  As you bear more weight, you become stronger, able to help others and also to bear that weight with more ease.  It's really important to keep taking deep breaths and exhale during the right moments so that the bearing of the weight isn't adding more stress to your body than it already will.  I need to learn how to "breathe out" during these types of moments, especially when I know I have a doctor's visit coming up.

I am not actually sure 100% how to do that, so any suggestions would be welcome.  The awesome Disney song "Let it Go" comes to mind, and maybe I need to start singing that at the top of my lungs more.  "Que Sera Sera" is also applicable, and I could sing that more too.  It's a whole lot easier to sing "let it go" than it is to actually let go all your worries, though.  Obviously, praying helps me to feel like I'm not carrying this alone.  I have not asked for a priesthood blessing during this pregnancy, and I probably should--I know there is knowledge and power there.  I could probably go visit the temple more also, and feel the strength and power of God's love there.  I have so much trepidation about what could go wrong, and I don't know that any amount of praying will remove all of it, nor do I want it to.  I was so blindsided when they told me Gideon's condition might be lethal, 2 days before I delivered him.  I look back and sometimes wish I had been more prepared for the bad news.  I also think how good it was that I didn't know how bad it was.  I wouldn't have been able to enjoy so many of the things I did last summer--our vacations, my brother's wedding, they all would have been overshadowed by the knowledge that I was carrying a baby who was in really big trouble.   Sometimes I wish I could let go of all worries and knowledge of all that could go wrong with this baby, and sometimes I am glad to be a little more prepared--I know I CAN handle the loss of a child if that is what I am called to do.  I sure don't want to, though.

I think of the sweet prayers of my children, myself, and my husband: how many times we prayed for Gideon, how dearly they are praying for our current baby, and I just want this baby to be perfectly OK so badly, for them as much as myself.  I wish for the hope that all will be well, without the disappointment that comes if things don't turn out how I want.  I hope for the faith to trust in God's plan for my family no matter what happens.  I think that would truly be "breathing" the right way in this situation.  Proverbs 3:5-6 "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart: and lean not to thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."  I WANT that type of trust and faith.  Sometimes I feel like I have it, but it is not the constant I want it to be.  Especially not when I'm going to the doctor.  Prayers and faith in our behalf would be truly appreciated as we take a closer look at this little baby next Monday, and I will post ultrasound pictures next week.

Family history...I am doing it!

Everything has changed.  I am still the same, but so much about my life is different since Gideon passed away.  Trivialities continue to shed from my life and I don't care, and important things have come into such a clearer focus.

Through scriptures and revelation, we believe that the spirits who leave this life go on and spend time with others who have also passed on.  They teach, they talk, they share, they help, and I believe that Gideon is on a mission there, to help others gain faith and strength.  He only needed a short time on earth to get a body here, and to give us some quick hellos and hugs, and then off he went to help others with all his strength.

I have felt a pull that while he is doing what he can do there, I need to be doing my part here.  He can teach, he can help, but he has no ability to help those who are hoping for baptism and temple ordinances to be performed, as his spirit and his body are no longer together.  I have the awesome privilege of being here on earth, with a body, and living close to many temples, where I can help seal families together, if they want it and accept it.  I have felt strongly that as I do family history work, we will be working together to help our family members to be happier.

I have NEVER done family history before January 2015.  (I was an "eye roller" remember?)  Scott and I took a family history course at the beginning of this year.   I learned lots, but still feel like a beginner.  I was surprised to see that almost nobody has found sources to back up the names and dates in existence, tying them to census, records of births/marriages/deaths, or pictures of gravestones.  My quest seemed to be to add sources to what is there already, and I have tied quite a few sources to my ancestors.  I have lots of family members who are interested in family history, and I have absolutely been guilty of being an "eye roller" in the past, when people talk about geneology and family history and how exciting it is, and how important it is, and etc.  I have always assumed that those who were excited about it (like my grandmothers) would take care of it all for me, and I wouldn't need to worry about it.

Until Gideon.  Since his death, whenever I am in the temple, I feel the connection more between heaven and earth.  As I help seal families together, I feel a sense of joy that I am connecting mothers to their children, as I know I am so grateful to be connected to mine.  I shed a lot more tears there now, as the moments spent there are more tender and precious to me.  I am so glad that families can be glued together forever, as I know how much it hurts to feel the separation from my son, and I am glad it is temporary.

I truly have felt that he wants my help here so that the work he does there will not be in vain, and I have felt like he is encouraging me to help.

Today, I got on familysearch.org because a friend of mine is taking a family history class at BYU and needed to help someone with Scandinavian ancestry.  (I have quite a bit of family from Norway.)  I pulled up a few names, and gave them to him for his help, as Norwegian family history can be difficult, I'm very grateful for his offer, and I hope he's able to help find some sources and more information.

What I didn't expect is that I'd feel a pull to look at names who weren't of Scandinavian ancestry.  I went to one of my great grandmother's lines (that I hadn't looked at before), and started trying to find sources to back up existing information.  After tying a census record to my 4th great grandmother (Martha), I added her siblings to her record, as she was the only child listed, but not according to the census.  After working for an hour, I figured I'd better stop.

I was surprised to feel the spirit strongly prompt me to keep going.  (I am God knows that I'm not very good at getting around to things, and that it's better done while I'm already at it, or I may not get to it again.  Based on today's promptings, I bet Gideon and my ancestors know too.)  I was able to fix a few dates and merge a few records that were duplicates.  Hyrum was being so good, playing learning games on the kindle right by me, so I kept going, figuring the spirit probably wasn't prompting me to keep going just so I could merge duplicate records.  So I started working on finding the last name of her mother.  We had hit a wall--no work could be done, as we had no birthday, death date, and without her last name, I wasn't sure what to do.  I found a record someone had typed up in a genealogical index which showed a last name, but I wasn't sure how accurate it would be.  Feeling not sure what to do, I stopped (hungry, and so was Hyrum by this time) and promised that I'd get back to it TODAY.  The spirit left me alone and let me go eat and pick up kids from school and do what I needed.

After kids were in bed, I sent my friend (the family history consultant) a message, and she helped set me up on ancestry.com and within an hour I now have the last name I needed, and all the names for the generation behind--all of which were missing.  I can't believe it, I did it!  Tomorrow (so the kids can be involved), I'll move all the information over so they can see our tree go back more, and hopefully will reserve some of the temple work to be done, so we can seal their family together.  I can't know if Gideon has them ready, or if they were already ready, or where exactly that prompting came from, but I can't question that I truly felt a pull to keep going, and because of the pull, people have been found that were lost. 

I am happy to be a helper on this end, and pleased to have an angel son who is teaching people on the other side.  I feel closer to him as I look for our ancestors and plan to visit the temple with their names, knowing that we can work together in this special way.  There aren't too many other angels I'd rather team up with than Gideon.

My children are a teaching tool for me

Over the last few months, I feel that my perspective has broadened, and rightly so.  When Gideon was not doing well, one of the things I prayed hardest for was the ability to see the bigger picture, to be blessed with understanding and perspective, so that I could continue to be happy and have faith, no matter what happened.  I feel that prayer has been answered, and I have seen that perspective trickling into many other areas of my life.

For example, I see now, more than ever, that having children was and is a necessary part of my journey.  They help me to feel joy, they help me to learn, they help me to see things in ways I never might have seen them otherwise.  I love to learn and grow, I love to share learning with others.  I rejoice in their successes, and realize that my Heavenly Father must rejoice in mine.  For me, I have grown and deepened since I have become a mother.  Finding ways to teach them, and finding ways to learn from them has been humbling (which I need often) and enlightening.  I often feel inspiration when I ask God for help in directing my children to become their best selves, which has deepened my faith in Him and in His love for me and my kids, I know he wants us to be happy, and that we have amazing potential.  (As does everyone.)

Yesterday, we read this book for Family Home Evening.  (Family Home Evening is the name of a program encouraged by my church, which is simply an evening at home where the family learns together or does activities together.  It's all about building strength and unity in families by taking a time out from all the other things the world has to offer and spending a dedicated evening together once a week, usually Monday evening.)

 

It is not a book I was very familiar with, until we checked it out from the library last week.  It has beautiful pictures and a beautiful lesson, although the story has quite a bit of sadness, as the birds make many foolish and damaging choices before anyone figures anything out.  I don't want to spoil it for anyone, so I will not say any more about the plot line than you may be able to figure out from the lessons we learned, but I highly recommend it as a lesson teacher for any parent, or any teacher wishing to help their students learn some valuable life and social skills.

 

We had a wonderful discussion about how people will see what they are looking for: if people are looking for reasons to be angry, looking for a fight, they will find it.  If we are looking for similarities and reasons why we can be friends, we will find them.  We discussed how when someone is looking for a fight, it's often a better choice to not fight back, to either walk away (or swim or fly) or to put up a "shield" where we do not allow others unkind intentions to hurt or anger us, because when people fight and argue, nobody wins.  We talked about how one person can spread bad ideas (or good) and how those can, in turn affect those around us.

 

I was awed and inspired when James piped up with this metaphor for life.  "Mom, it's like a dandelion.  It spreads its seeds, and then those seeds grow into plants and spread seeds."  BOOM!  He got it, he absolutely understood the concept, and put it into a picture he could share with the rest of us.  We talked about how any one of us can be a dandelion which spreads goodness, truth, and happiness, or how we can spread thoughts of contention, frustration, and ill will, and how those in turn become seeds and spread.   

 

I often find myself frustrated with James.  Because of his learning disabilities, he requires immense amounts of patience to memorize facts (like letters, numbers, math facts, spellings of words).  Some concepts, though, especially the deep ones, he just latches onto and understands so quickly, and he even can add depth to a conversation about them.  I am in love with his comparison of being a dandelion and spreading seeds of goodness everywhere (or seeds of contention and evil--you get to choose.)

 

That discussion reminded me how special all of my children are, and how much I have to learn from each of them, if I am willing to let them teach me and not just the other way around.  My testimony that God's plan included having and raising children was firmed by the feelings I had as I listened and participated in this discussion with my children, and I am grateful that they were sent here to help me gain perspective on my journey.