Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Last night my dad and I went on a date for Father's Day.
I bought a dinner-and-a-movie package so we ate some delicious burgers at Red
Robin and then watched, "17 Miracles". We were looking forward to watching it
because we have some pioneer ancestry who participated in the Willie/Martin
Handcart companies. I was choked up from the opening scene and cried off and on
throughout the whole movie-- and I am not a movie-crier, especially in public.
Of course, my emotions were a little more vulnerable since I was missing Ty more than usual that night anyway. Watching parents bury their frozen children in the hard, wintry ground hit a little too close to home. But I don't think anyone could watch these brave, faithful members burying each other one after the other and not bawl. At times, some of the pioneers felt like giving up, starved and sick with their frost-bitten skin--and I couldn't help but wonder along with some of them: Where is God? How could He let them suffer like this when their desires to reach Zion were out of righteousness?
But the miracles continued to happen. They were not sweeping miracles that took away the enormity of their trials. They were small, inexplicable blessings: Though still meager in portion, they found extra food, protection from wolves and snakes, and even one child healed from what seemed death... These miracles happened throughout the trek, gifts from the Lord that were just enough to get many of them through one more day, despite the rising death toll.
Sometimes when we hear the word "miracle" we might imagine an event that immediately resolves a tragedy or disaster. This didn't happen for the pioneers and it doesn't always happen that way for us either. Sometimes we wish the Lord would just take away the trial, but often times, it seems He offers us small portions of "sustenance" instead: little helps along the way in various forms. If we're not looking for them, we probably miss recognizing them.
I want to recognize the miracle in my life: With Aiyana's birth, after the first few days I felt emotionally and physically defeated with anxiety. I cried in desperation, not knowing how I could feel this fear day after day and on through the nights, allowing it to ruin my happiness of being a mother again. I wondered how long it would last: Five months? Perhaps the entire first year? The task loomed over me with such heaviness that I could not imagine it would go away. Yet I hoped and prayed and received an incredible blessing, one that still took me time to put all my faith into believing. The comfort and promise was there, but I had to accept it, to make the decision to allow that blessing of the priesthood to work in my life.
It did not happen over night, but as I was promised: "little by little the fear would dissipate". I felt the weight of the anxiety begin to leave after only a week. One week! How was it possible to move past the trauma of finding my baby boy dead in his crib, when Aiyana's arrival only triggered the emotions of that event? The image is still as vivid as if it was yesterday. Yet each night my ability to feel safe enough to close my eyes increased. During the day, my confidence that I would check on my daughter and indeed find her alive also grew.
Here I am, only one month into it, and I feel wonderful. I feel stronger every day, and pray with gratitude for the speedy progress Dan and I have both made. I look back on the dread of that first week and look at where I am now... It's only been four or five weeks since Aiyana's birth, and I am so happy. I love taking care of her. I am in awe of how well I am doing, of the peace and comfort I feel. My anxiety is not gone in its entirety. But to me, I feel like I'm living my own miracle, and I recognize that it is a gift from the Lord.
Our trials are not swept away, even when that's the only solution we'd like to suggest to Heavenly Father. But I know Heavenly Father is there for us. Small miracles still happen.
Of course, my emotions were a little more vulnerable since I was missing Ty more than usual that night anyway. Watching parents bury their frozen children in the hard, wintry ground hit a little too close to home. But I don't think anyone could watch these brave, faithful members burying each other one after the other and not bawl. At times, some of the pioneers felt like giving up, starved and sick with their frost-bitten skin--and I couldn't help but wonder along with some of them: Where is God? How could He let them suffer like this when their desires to reach Zion were out of righteousness?
But the miracles continued to happen. They were not sweeping miracles that took away the enormity of their trials. They were small, inexplicable blessings: Though still meager in portion, they found extra food, protection from wolves and snakes, and even one child healed from what seemed death... These miracles happened throughout the trek, gifts from the Lord that were just enough to get many of them through one more day, despite the rising death toll.
Sometimes when we hear the word "miracle" we might imagine an event that immediately resolves a tragedy or disaster. This didn't happen for the pioneers and it doesn't always happen that way for us either. Sometimes we wish the Lord would just take away the trial, but often times, it seems He offers us small portions of "sustenance" instead: little helps along the way in various forms. If we're not looking for them, we probably miss recognizing them.
I want to recognize the miracle in my life: With Aiyana's birth, after the first few days I felt emotionally and physically defeated with anxiety. I cried in desperation, not knowing how I could feel this fear day after day and on through the nights, allowing it to ruin my happiness of being a mother again. I wondered how long it would last: Five months? Perhaps the entire first year? The task loomed over me with such heaviness that I could not imagine it would go away. Yet I hoped and prayed and received an incredible blessing, one that still took me time to put all my faith into believing. The comfort and promise was there, but I had to accept it, to make the decision to allow that blessing of the priesthood to work in my life.
It did not happen over night, but as I was promised: "little by little the fear would dissipate". I felt the weight of the anxiety begin to leave after only a week. One week! How was it possible to move past the trauma of finding my baby boy dead in his crib, when Aiyana's arrival only triggered the emotions of that event? The image is still as vivid as if it was yesterday. Yet each night my ability to feel safe enough to close my eyes increased. During the day, my confidence that I would check on my daughter and indeed find her alive also grew.
Here I am, only one month into it, and I feel wonderful. I feel stronger every day, and pray with gratitude for the speedy progress Dan and I have both made. I look back on the dread of that first week and look at where I am now... It's only been four or five weeks since Aiyana's birth, and I am so happy. I love taking care of her. I am in awe of how well I am doing, of the peace and comfort I feel. My anxiety is not gone in its entirety. But to me, I feel like I'm living my own miracle, and I recognize that it is a gift from the Lord.
Our trials are not swept away, even when that's the only solution we'd like to suggest to Heavenly Father. But I know Heavenly Father is there for us. Small miracles still happen.
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