What a Wonderful World

There are many things to post about, since Eliot's second birthday is this week, and we celebrated with family over the weekend. Look for posts on Eliot's and my blogs soon to read up on our rained-out zoo adventure and the "Noah's Ark" birthday party for Eliot and his "twin" cousin Michael. We had a great time and got some great pictures of the events. But until I get pictures collected from the several photographers, choose which ones to upload, and get those posts put together, you'll have to settle for a "boring" post for now.

Do you ever have moments that catch you by surprise, when you're just filled with emotion that literally comes out of nowhere, when you feel full of the spirit, when you feel so grateful that there are no words, when the prayer you hadn't prayed for is answered, when you're caught off guard by the peace you feel when you weren't even necessarily looking for it? Let me explain by telling you about that kind of moment I had yesterday.

We were at stake conference, which is a bit of a dreaded event for us. Please don't judge my lack of enthusiasm for a normally great, spiritually uplifting meeting. But two-year-olds and two-hour-long church meetings are not a good mix, especially considering that Eliot's now used to nursery, where he can play and blow off some energy after a squirmy hour in sacrament meeting. We just did our best to pack a "super bag"," sat in the back near a door, held our breath and waited to see how things went. I'm pretty sure it is these kind of events that inspired the phrase, "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst." Much like all the other "dreaded" events in our life -- long car rides, plane trips, doctor appointments, etc. -- Eliot did much better than expected. Sure, we had a couple crayon catastrophes, Grant had to take him out once when things got too intense (at about the hour and 10 minute mark his built-in sacrament meeting alarm clock started going off), Eliot stuffed himself sick on animal crackers, but overall, I was pleased with how well he did.

Still, considering that I was in Mommy survival mode and not spiritually reflective mode, I was surprised by the spiritually powerful moment that struck me out of nowhere. We stood to sing an intermediate hymn, "We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet," and halfway through the second verse, tears started creeping out of my eyes as we sang, "When dark clouds of trouble hang o'er us, and threaten our peace to destroy, There is hope smiling brightly before us, and we know that deliverance is nigh." I guess I shouldn't have been totally surprised that I was touched by those words; I have gained a greater appreciation for that verse and other comforting hymns and scriptures over the last couple of years as my family has experienced a trial that has wrenched our souls and has left us feeling like "darks clouds of trouble" are settled in above us to stay. Those of you close to me and that situation know that things have gotten progressively worse, not better, that this dilemma has been the trigger of the depression I have been battling with, that it is the source of a deep heartache in my life, one that is causing my family, my parents in particular, devastating anguish.

All of that said, my motto for this summer has been "Let it roll off my back," particularly with regard to my family trials. In this particular situation, there is nothing, or very little at best, that anyone can do, and in order to preserve my health and happiness, I've determined I am not going to focus my energy on that anymore. So I haven't. And you know what, it has worked. A family therapist (which I admit openly I could probably benefit from seeing) might tell me I'm avoiding (or better yet "repressing") my emotions, but letting things roll off my back, probably in combination with Grant being out of school for the summer, having some Utah sunshine, and running regularly, have helped me feel pretty good these days. Which is why I was surprised to be so affected by the hymn we were singing at stake conference. If I had been praying fervently or fasting or beating on heaven's doors for a sense of peace, I might have expected such a tender heavenly communication, but I wasn't. Like I said, I've been feeling pretty okay about things (as "okay" as anyone can feel under the circumstances), and as far as what I expected to get out of stake conference, I was just happy to get out of there alive with my two year old.

Which is maybe even greater evidence of Heavenly Father's love. He sent me a loving message even when I didn't "need" it. How appropriate that on Father's Day I was able to hear from my Heavenly Father a message that reached my heart, gave me hope and encouragement, and surprised me by its sweetness and its ability to pierce through the whirling distractions of being a young mother. I think what caused the tears was the intensity of the peace and love that I felt. I wasn't crying because I was upset about my family's situation, I was crying because I felt a great deal of hope, something that has been largely absent in my life for over two years. I felt that there truly is "hope smiling brightly before us" -- for me and my family -- regardless of outcome. In that moment it didn't matter that my family's difficulties may not resolve themselves in the next few years, decades, or even in this lifetime. I felt the assurance that Heavenly Father is very much aware of what is going on, and He has promised that "deliverance is nigh" -- whatever that may be and whenever that may come.

That sense of encouragement and peace carries over into my little immediate family's circumstances, too. As Grant approaches his last year of law school and as he takes more and more steps toward beginning his career, I feel like the "end" of this very intense time of our lives is actually coming, that there is much ahead for us, that we will be able to look back in awe of what we were able to endure and how we were able to make ends meet, and that it will all "come to pass." We will be okay. Maybe not all, but many, of our circumstances will improve. And even if things get harder before they get better, I know we have so much to live for and hope for, and be happy for.

As I have been reflecting on my little Eliot lately in anticipation of his second birthday, I can't help but think that he is the epitome of the "hope smiling brightly before us." We waited a long time for the timing to be right to welcome Eliot into our family, and in hindsight, I don't think his timing could have been any more perfect. He arrived just as things were most difficult for me and Grant and for my extended family. And yet he and his little cousin, born within an hour of each other, have been little rays of sunshine, providing hope and comfort and laughter during our darkest hours. He is one of my greatest sources of hope. When I see my son, I see all of his divine potential -- I see him following in his daddy's footsteps and becoming a tender and kind man, a worthy and righteous priesthood holder, a humble and energetic missionary, a gentle husband, father, and friend. Because of him and other sweet boys (and girls!) like him, the world is and will be a much better place. There is hope for our future because of sweet children like my little Eliot. That is something to hope for.

So today when I opened up my blog and heard Louis Armstrong singing, "I hear babies cry, I watch them grow. They'll learn much more than we'll ever know. And I think to myself, 'What a wonderful world,'" all I could think was, "Amen." What a wonderful world.