Crew's Primary Talk

Crew gave his very first talk in Primary on July 5, 2015!  Unfortunately, the microphone wasn't working making it hard to hear him. He did his very best to speak clearly and with conviction. We were so proud to see our baby share the things he knows about Jesus Christ.

 

Jesus came to Earth to be an example.

When Jesus was little, he learned how to pray. I can pray like Jesus.

Jesus was baptized. I can be baptized like Jesus when I turn 8.

Jesus was loving. I can be loving to my family and friends.

Jesus was forgiving. I can forgive others.

Jesus gave us the Sacrament. I can take the Sacrament and think about Jesus.

I love Jesus and want to follow His example.

John 11:35

I always feel the need to fully disclose my imperfect and sinful nature before writing about sacred and holy subject matters. I am painfully aware of my faults and shortcomings. I am a broken by my sins, but there is a Great Healer, capable of piecing me together. The glorious reality of the Gospel is that Jesus Christ was born, He lived a perfect life, and died for each of us.

Let it also be known I am not a scriptorium nor a theologian. My knowledge of the scriptures pales in comparison to experts. I am simply a woman with a burning conviction of the reality of Jesus Christ, His divinely appointed mission and His beautiful promises. I share this message with love, never to condemn.

I recently discovered Nikki Yaste, a former drug-using exotic dancer turned Christian. Her story is remarkable and inspiring. Today on her Facebook page, she wrote the following:

God is many things. A God of Righteousness. A God of order. A God of peace and love. But "tender mercies" tells us that He's a God of feelings. Actively possessing the emotion to feel what we feel and He has the power to do something about it. He throws out a lifeline to ALL who believe in His name and believes in His Son. And the beautiful thing is His tender mercies are new every morning.

The scriptures are full of accounts of Christ displaying emotion. Jesus felt compassion, he was angry, indignant, troubled, greatly distressed, sorrowful, depressed, deeply moved and full of grief. He experienced agony, surprise, amazement, joy and He loved deeply.

I absolutely love the narrative in John 11. A frantic Martha (and later Mary) greeted Jesus, their beloved Friend, full of sorrow and disappointment that He had not come sooner to save their brother Lazarus who had died. Jesus listened patiently to the sisters as they grieved, but more interesting is verse 35: "Jesus wept".

Here before them was the Son of God, the One promised from the beginning of time who would come and Redeem mankind, weeping. He probably knew He would soon raise Lazarus from the dead, but He didn't interrupt them as they expressed their grief. Instead, He listened patiently and was filled with such compassion that He also was overcome with the intensity of His own feelings. He felt their heartache and anguish. He was moved by their tears and broken hearts. In fact, so great was His compassion and love for them that He wept. He didn't just get teary eyed, or shed a few tears, the scriptures explicitly state that he wept.

Such a thought moves me to tears! The God who created the heavens and Earth is a God of feelings. He isn't void of emotions, but filled with compassion. He loves us deeply and perfectly. Just as with Mary and Martha, He takes the time and allows Himself to feel and experience depths of grief alongside us.

Realizations while driving the Struggle Bus

It had been 20 whole minutes since Rod left for work, and I was already calling him.

Crying.

Overwhelmed.

And mad. So mad.

You see, Rod works in the Emergency Room and because those never close, I often endure the bedtime struggle routine alone. {{#NightShiftProblems}} {{PS: Bless you single mama's. You've earned your spot in heaven.}}

Ahh, beloved bedtime. Nothing evokes such JOY and DREAD simultaneously quite like bedtime. On one hand, the little minions cherubs are going to bed {{insert heavenly chorus singing praises}} but you actually have to see the process through, beginning to end. And by process I mean cooking dinner, feeding, cleaning, bathing, teeth-brushing, reading, praying, and death-threats loving words to lull the little's to sleep. I'm sure for most normal people, that's what the bedtime process looks like. Because we're special, however, our bedtime routine is where pandemonium meets Mom's "dinosaur voice" (I'm working on it, people).

Our nightly routine:

Step 1: Look over that evening's meal plan and decide it's too much work. This is usually when I resort to creativity, which is always bad.

Step 2: Dinnertime. The child not asked to say the prayer is always offended; I can always count on in-chair body-convulsions or slow-sink-from-chair-to-floor. Dinner in our house is served with a side-dish of complaints from both boys that his brother "is looking at me!!!". The baby has realized that I'll do just about anything for him, including retrieve his sippy cup 49873870 each time he catapults it across the room or table. There are always reminders to the older boys that "you get what you get and you don't throw a fit.... and if you don't eat it, I guess you'll starve..." {{#BecauseImMean}}

Step 3: Bathing. I don't know why it's so impossible for little boys to clear their plates and walk directly to the bathroom. Oh, no. That would make too much sense. They like to wrestle down the hall, giggling, high-pitched screaming, running, and jumping. {{Enter #DinosaurVoiceWarmingUp}}

Step 3.5: Around this time, the baby begins to loose his ever-loving mind. He's grumpy from taking such horrible naps all day long and wants to go night-night.

As much as I would love to elaborate the details of our bedtime struggle, our spin-off story begins here. The older boys are, without question, the most destructive creative while I'm nursing their baby brother. This particular evening was no exception.

Middle boy (age Just-Turned-4) was already bathed and dressed for bed. I instructed oldest son (age 5) to take a shower while I put the baby to sleep. You'd think I'd learn. Or lock middle child in a room.

Lets just say I returned from nursing and putting baby to sleep to find an inch of water flooding the bathroom floor, wet hallway carpet, water dripping from the ceiling, water cascading down walls and the cabinets, the toilet plunger in the tub, and two little boys insisting the other "started it". I walked into the bathroom and literally felt water dripping on my head, as if I were standing beneath a raincloud.

And then the baby woke up crying. And by woke up, I mean he realized I put him in his crib and he wasn't happy about it.

After a complete meltdown, a crying call made to the husband, 11 towels, a jumbo fan, and an interrogation later, I discovered the following: Middle son decided he would be hilarious and pee in the shower while his older brother showered. For fun. He wanted to provoke his older brother, and it worked. My oldest son rightfully freaked out and a water-fight escalated.

That night, I felt like a failure. My son, after all, PEED IN THE SHOWER to upset his brother. What kind of mother raises a son who does that?! It was by the grace of God that somehow, quite miraculously, I stumbled upon a podcast. It was everything I needed to hear.

My identity has been wrapped up in motherhood, which is why I take my children's disobedience and struggles so personally. To want to be a good mother is noble. To recognize weaknesses and identify areas to improve upon is praiseworthy. But to allow my children's action to gnaw at my soul and to place their shortcomings as a burden upon my back isn't needful. I realized I needed to separate my identity from their behavior. My worth isn't intrinsically tied to their achievements or short-comings.

I would do well to take a step back and remember that first and foremost and ALWAYS, I am a daughter of God. He loves me individually and personally. His love isn't dependent on my children's good (or bad) behavior. There is nothing I can do to make Him love me more and there is nothing I can do to make him love me less. His love is simply there. That reassurance gives me such great hope. It also sets the parenting standard for me. I am reminded that I should love without conditions, offer grace abundantly, and weave discipline and punishment with love.

How we should believe God’s grace is bigger than our mistakes and how our weaknesses reveal His power. - See more at: http://godcenteredmom.com/2015/01/12/how-parent-grace-jeannie-cunnion-ep-55/#sthash.lZsZWmEP.dpuf

How the Mommy Wars interfere with Spirit-Driven Parenting

I read this earlier and absolutely loved it. It lead me to ponder the modern day Mommy Wars and give some of my thoughts on the matter.

In my short 5 years of parenting, I have seen and, sadly at times, engaged in the Mommy Wars. Any mother can attest to how ugly the modern day Mommy Wars have become. The Mommy Wars encompass so much: Breast-feeding or Formula. Cloth or Disposable. Epidural or Natural. Homebirth or Hospital. Homeschool, Public school or Private school. Family size: one child or a dozen. Stay at home mom or working mom. Organic or Non-Organic. Which extracurricular activities are best. Which discipline method is right. The list is endless.

I can only imagine that it grieves our Father to see His daughters bickering and at war with each other. When we engage in Mommy Wars, supposing that *our way* is superior, then we fail to acknowledge that Heavenly Father is the author of diversity and individuality.  Is the Earth He created not full of variety? Did He not create us individually, giving to us unique talents, struggles and circumstances?  How can there be absolutes in parenting when there is neither a parent or child in the entire universe that is the same? How can we suppose that our parenting methods are the truth, the full truth, and nothing but the truth?

Mommy Wars achieve little except hurting feelings, wounding hearts, planting seeds of self-doubt and self-contempt. These Mommy Wars are precisely what Satan desires because when we are enlisted and trudging through the battle of judging, criticizing, condemning and hating we are ultimately distracted from our most sacred calling as Mothers. Distraction is a clever tactic of Satan's devised to lead our passions, our minds, our time and energy towards eternally insignificant matters.

But what about our sensitivities to the Spirit and these Mommy Wars? How can we feel the influence of the Spirit assisting in the difficult parental decisions we must make when we engage in Mommy Wars? In short, we cannot. Remaining true to our Christian principles is the only way the Spirit can be with us. Jeffrey R. Holland has said that "the Spirit has a near-impossible task to get through to a heart filled with hate or anger or vengeance or self-pity. Those are all antithetical to the Spirit of the Lord." In essence, we don't just hurt others when we engage in Mommy Wars; we also hurt ourselves. We distance ourselves from a loving God and the guidance of the Spirit.

Let us never forget what Christ taught Simon Peter: "Simon, Simon, behold, Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not: and when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren." (Luke 22:31-32) Of these Mommy Wars I can only imagine that he would say the same.

First, SATAN DESIRES TO HAVE YOU. Never forget that. Never doubt that. He is real and very cumming. By enlisting in these Mommy Wars, he has captured our hearts. When we abandon Christ's admonition to love our brethren and sisters as ourselves by shaming or gossiping or judging, then we are in error, which is precisely what Satan desires. He wants to pit daughters of God against each other. Her verses you. Them verses us. This is how he sifts us as wheat, as the scriptures say, and by sifting us, he has distanced us from our Father and His inspiration.

Second, STRENGTHEN YOUR SISTERS, your fellow mommy friends. The Lord doesn't say to strengthen your sister by first judging, berating, or scolding. No. Strengthen her by loving her. Love her as Christ loves her--differences in parenting and all! Strengthen her by accepting her. Accept where she is in her mothering journey. Accept that her journey is different from yours. Strengthen her by celebrating her. Celebrate her individuality and all the things she does well. Celebrate her efforts to do what is best for her family even if it looks different from your family.

I rejoice knowing that our Father has promised His help, especially when it comes to raising children. He will give us individualized help for each individual child, if we choose to SEEK after His help.

Members of most Christian faiths, including mine, believe in personal revelation. We believe that we can ask God for help SPECIFICALLY for our own family. We believe that He will send answers.

Do you believe this is true for you? And if it is, is it also true for your neighbor? And if God is speaking to you AND your neighbor, do you believe...possibly...He could be guiding you in DIFFERENT ways as parents?

The essence of Spirit Driven Parenting is found in 1 Corinthians 2:12: "Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is of God; that we might know the things that are freely given to us of God."

The spirit of the world is about trend.

But the spirit of God is about truth.

No matter what parenting method or issue is popular for families at the moment, God is waiting to reveal truth to you about YOUR family. Because God chose YOU to be the parent of a specific child, He will make sure you have the answers needed for that child. And not only will God's plan differ from family to family, but it may very well differ from one of your own children to the next. This is why parenting MUST be driven and guided by the spirit and not the world. --Whitney Permann of Mercy River

Spirit Driven Parenting. I absolutely love that.

There is only One whose opinion should matter. There is only One who knows best for our families. 

You're Coming!!

We're nearing the end of this pregnancy. It's well past time to talk about the beginning.

As I already blogged about (here), the significance of this baby's due date is nothing shy of a miracle. Really, a reminder of a loving God who watches over all of His children.

February 2014

I didn't know I was pregnant. It wasn't POSSIBLE for me to know that I was pregnant.  As I walked to the boy's room to put them to sleep, the Spirit spoke to my mind in these words: "Your due date will be October 31".  

I was overjoyed at the prospect, especially because of the significance that day held to me, but as the days crept on, I began to doubt. Was this voice in my head my own? Was my desperation filling my mind with false hope?

I didn't want my sadness to ruin Valentine's Day, so I skipped testing altogether.

February 15, 2014

A cheap pregnancy test at just 9 days past ovulation revealed the SLIGHTEST hint of a line, or so I thought. I held it from every angle, unconvinced, but wondering if I should use a better, more expensive pregnancy test. I hesitated, convinced that my eyes were deceiving me.

 

Curiosity eventually got the best of me; I needed certainty. I walked to the bathroom counter to retrieve the test, my hands shaking. As I waited for the results to appear, I sat on the toilet preparing myself to be let down once more. I tightly gripped my phone, hands still shaking, being tortured with the passage of time.

Those few minutes felt like an eternity.

My stomach was in a knot. I wanted this baby desperately. My head was swirling with the words the Spirit had spoke to my mind just the week prior. It was so clear and unmistakable: "Your due date will be October 31".

I forced myself to look at the test.

Positive pregnancy test. 9DPO (Days Past Ovulation)

POSITIVE!! Faint, as I expected that early, but positive nonetheless. I could hardly contain myself. I was overjoyed. There was crying, jumping up and down, grinning, shaking, and more happy tears. I immediately prayed and thanked my Heavenly Father for our precious gift because I realized that this was HIS gift to us. A gift with a very personalized and miraculous due date.

I took the above picture with my cell phone and sent it to my sister, who was just a few weeks pregnant herself. We briefly talked about how I should tell Rod. I settled on a cheesy sign that I made in 2 whole minutes and had Pax deliver it to him while he was in the other room. He came in our room, grinning, to confirm that he was understanding. He held me while I sobbed the most happy, thankful, and excited tears.

Happy {late} Valentine's Day!

Days later, a positive digital pregnancy test.

I nervously waited for the weeks to pass until I could confirm that this baby would be staying with us. Throwing up wasn't easing my mind much. Given our history, I needed to SEE the baby and the heart-beat. Finally, on March 25th, we had our ultrasound and saw a healthy beating heart and the most adorable round squishy growing as expected.

My heart was at ease. 

I could finally let the world share in our joy.

I felt reassured that YOU were actually coming.

Sometimes I break

Sometimes I remind myself that I'm just loosing hair.

I'm not dying.

I'm healthy. My family is healthy.

I've been blessed with another baby. 

I take mental inventory of the many women I've met throughout my life who cannot have children.  I think of all the women who have tragically lost children and were forced to say goodbye too soon.  I reflect on the many heartbreaking circumstances that are not mine.  I remember the agonizing moments were I have amounted to a puddle on the floor pleading for Divine help and a healing Hand; I've survived worse.

I tell myself that I am strong.

I am a survivor, not a victim.

It's just hair.

But I still break.

I've known that my hair is falling out, but today two pictures taken 10 weeks apart illustrate just how much is gone.  I've kept my crying to a minimum because crying during pregnancy always makes me throw up.  Today, however, I sobbed.  I didn't care who heard or if I'd be vomiting because of it.

This is the same side of my head; one image is flipped to make it look otherwise.

Next thing I knew, a book about Christ's atonement was thrown from my nightstand.  I reached the pinnacle of anger and feelings of abandonment from the God that I love. I just began yelling.

Is a NORMAL pregnancy too much to ask? 

Am I really THAT selfish for not wanting my hair to fall out?

Why can't I have a healthy baby AND keep my hair, too?

Oh, but I have to be thankful and strong, right? Because other people have it worse than I do.

I AM SICK OF BEING STRONG.

While yelling was certainly irreverent, and it isn't something I condone, it was very cathartic.  I was finally being sincere with myself and with my Heavenly Father. I'm not nearly as strong as I pretend and diminishing my hurt "because other people have it worse" isn't helpful. I don't need to put on my strong face for Him.  In fact, we are asked to "Cast all your care upon him; for he careth for you." (1Peter 5:7)  

The last words I uttered aloud rang in my ears: I am sick of being strong. Unexpectedly my mind began to fill with thoughts. Beautiful, comforting thoughts and reminders:

You don't have to be strong alone.  Christ came to Earth so that you never have to be strong on your own.  He made the choice to abandon His Godliness in order to suffer and FEEL the very pains and heartbreak that you will ever endure. Why?  Because of perfect love.  Nobody has ever given so much and so willingly than He.

Your Savior performed miracles driven by love, not a hidden agenda.  He befriended mortals when He didn't have to.  He wept at the sorrow of His friends. He is the best friend you'll ever have.

On an intellectual level, He understands your suffering. Because of the Atonement, He also FEELS your pain.  He can comfort you both with sympathy and empathy.  

On that day of suffering, your wounds became His wounds.

Vanessa, REJOICE in His glorious invitation: "Come unto me, all ye that are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).

I'll continue to break, because that is my human nature. Today, thankfully, I was reminded that my wounds are His wounds.  It's not just hair. It's my hair and loosing it is the cause of my sadness and anxiety, therefore He cares. Petty or as vain as it may be, HE CARES and He knows perfectly how I feel. 

Next time I break, I'll remember that He already broke for me and that makes walking through this trial feel less lonely.

Learning to not let beauty define me

Some days I feel strong enough to face my hair loss with poise and sufficient faith to see me through this difficult time.  Other days I crumble and feel the seed of anger planted in my heart.  This isn't the first time that pregnancy has affected my physical appearance in a rare, and heartbreaking manner.

Nearly five years ago, at 36 weeks pregnant, I woke to a partially paralyzed face.  I had pregnancy-induced Bell's Palsy, a rare condition.  Half of my face lost it's function; only one eye could blink, only half of my mouth could smile, and only one part of my mouth could function enough to drink from a cup. It kept me from smiling or venturing out in public.  Rod had to let me know when I was drooling, because I couldn't control it, nor could I feel it. My speech was slurred and often unintelligible.  My self esteem was greatly affected. 

More heartbreaking, every picture from the first moments of meeting our son are void of emotion.  I was overjoyed at becoming a mother and thrilled to meet our precious baby, but smiling was no longer apart of who I was.  I was self-conscious and felt incredibly ugly.


The symptoms of Bell's Palsy slowly improved, but my smile and face showed a lingering, droopy smile and asymmetrical face.  I remember sobbing and pleading with the Lord for just ONE opportunity to capture my JOY of being a new mother.  Days after that prayer, I noticed enough improvement to attempt a smile in a picture.  My smile was still crooked, and my right eye still affected, but I finally had a picture with my son and I was smiling! 

Lingering Bell's Palsy, but finally smiling again.

  

Bell's Palsy forever changed my face; I never recovered 100%.  I am grateful that I recovered enough for strangers not to notice, but a slight droopy eye remains.  It's something I immediately notice in pictures and one of the many reasons I'll forever be self-conscious.

Daily hair loss

As I continue to loose hair, I attempt to resist the urge to become angry.  It's a daily battle to choose JOY when I feel that I'm slowly turning into an ugly, balding duckling.  It's an emotional journey and one that is reminding me of who I REALLY am. 

I am more than the hair on my head.

I am a daughter of God.

He knows me personally and loves me eternally.

I am beautiful because of who I am.

My reflection doesn't determine my worth.

October 28. October 31.

To fully understand the significance and miraculous nature of this baby's due date, you have to know the story of our sweet 4th baby. A baby we lost to miscarriage.

October 2013
A positive pregnancy test. Tears of joy, a rejoicing heart, and prayers filled with thanks.  We were going to have another baby.  Despite my excitement, I could never shake the feeling that something wasn't right.  My heart instinctively knew, but I attempted to convince myself that I was just paranoid.

October 28, 2013
In the early of the morning, I listened to the thunder. I could feel my heart breaking. Pax was awake, quietly creeping around the house, as he had been since 5:00am.  I had been awake for some time. I had a symbolic dream of miscarriage.   I saw a uterus being tipped over as it emptied.  My heart knew what was going to happen, but I clung to the little bit of hope that remained.

I dragged my feet into the bathroom and took a pregnancy test; I didn't know what else to do.  Positive, but very faint. Much more faint than it should have be. It confirmed what I knew in my heart for days: we were going to loose this baby.

I woke Rod up because I needed somebody--anybody-- to hold me.  Before I could find the right words, Rod was mumbling and grumbling about how annoyed he was with Pax for being awake and that it was going to be a loooooong day.  I cut him off, because in that moment, our son's sleep deprivation was an insignificant problem.

"We need to talk. It's not good."

He knew right away, before I said anything else.  In the darkened room, our eyes met. No words spoken. Just the sound of rain falling and rolling thunder.  I could see the pain in his eyes; the same pain I remember all too well from 5 years ago.  It was all I could do to stagger into his arms.

In these moments, it's hard to breathe.

I eventually laid back in bed, wanting to fall back asleep because sleeping is the only way to escape the pain.  You can't feel when you're sleeping, and I wasn't ready to feel the depth of pain that I knew was coming.  Instead of sleeping, however, I cried more.

How was this happening again?

Just then, our sweet little Pax appeared in the shadow of the room.  Four years ago, he was sent as our precious rainbow baby; the rainbow that came after the tumultuous storm of miscarriage.  And here he was again, my little rainbow baby, my sweet angel, to comfort me while a storm was raging in my heart.

He climbed into bed with me and told me he had a song for me.  He sang the most beautiful Primary song in his most adorable, squeaky voice.  I know my Heavenly Father was near and wanting me to know that He was aware of my pain, because Pax just "happened" to sing a song about rainbows, a song that we rarely sing.  It gave me great hope that another rainbow would come.

I like to look for rainbows whenever there is rain

And ponder on the beauty of the Earth made clean again.

I want to be the best I can,

and live with God again!!

October 31, 2013
Another incredibly difficult day. On this day, the physical process of miscarriage began.

October 28, 2013 and October 31 2013. 

Two incredibly difficult days full of pain and grieving.

However, my story is proof that we are children of a loving and merciful God.

"...and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into JOY" (John 16:20)

February 2014

I didn't know I was pregnant. It wasn't POSSIBLE for me to know that I was pregnant yet.  As I walked to the boy's room to put them to sleep, the Spirit spoke to my mind in these words: "Your due date will be October 31".  

I couldn't get to my phone's calendar fast enough.  I literally RAN to my phone as my fingers fumbled until I finally discovered that according to my ovulation date (if I actually was pregnant), that my due date would, in fact, be October 31.  More miraculous than that: if determining the due date from my last missed period, my due date would be October 28.

I bawled my eyes out.

 October 28th and 31st were significant only to me.

Each of those days a piece of my heart broke.

My journal is filled with entries of a grieving mother on those very days. 

They were days filled with sorrow and heartbreak, but my sorrow has been swallowed in the JOY of the daily reminders that our baby's due date-- EITHER possible due date-- are the days that I enthusiastically anticipate.

There is only One who knew the significance that those days held.

There is only One who could manipulate my fertility so meticulously.

 Some may say this is a classic case of coincidence. I disagree. This is a classic case of a loving God who cares deeply and very personally.

He never forgot.

He never left my side.

 He let me know, in the most miraculous and personal way that He remembered me.

Hair Problems and Heavenly Help

Pregnancy is hard on me physically.  This pregnancy is no exception. In addition to weeks of nausea and vomiting, I've been loosing hair.  Lots and lots and LOTS of hair. Clumps of hair, really.  I loose a significant amount in the shower, when I brush it, when I dress, when I sleep and even when I lightly touch it.

Rodney, who is known for being incredibly laid back and generally optimistic, has noticed and is  concerned. It was once funny, but now it brings me to tears daily.  I've always loved my thick hair and it's ability to grow long and fast, but now it is literally being taken from me, and very rapidly.

I have talked with my midwife and we are in the process of addressing the problem, but in the meantime, I'm left alone with my fears.  Fears of eventually balding, fears of a more serious, unidentified health problem, and fears of miscarriage or stillbirth.   Hair loss after pregnancy can be normal, but hair loss to this extent during pregnancy is very uncommon, which only adds to my anxiety.

A few days ago I stared at myself in the mirror and then down at the enormous clump of hair that had fallen out that morning.  Tears welled in my eyes as I ran my fingers through my thinning hair. Confusion and fear overcame me.  Rodney walked in and took notice of the clump of hair.  He silently muttered, "Oh... wow... is that from today? That.... seems.... like.... a lot."  

Obsessing over the many more hairs that continued to fall out that day wasn't helping.  Google searches weren't helping nor was I finding definitive answers. 

And then I was reminded that the most powerful Being in the universe cared deeply, even if it's just hair.

"But the very hairs of your head are all numbered." (Matthew 10:30)

 Later that afternoon I found myself in the parking lot of the Sacramento, California Temple.  It is the only place I know to find the peace I was desperate for.  I wanted the Earthly distractions removed and to be surrounded by the peace and reverence of the temple.

(You can read more about the purposes of temples here.  You can also watch this comprehensive video which includes pictures of the inside of temples.)

While I was still in the parking lot I poured my heart out in prayer.  I told my Heavenly Father that I was scared and overwhelmed, full of fear, sadness, anxiety, devastation, anger, and confusion.  I told Him I felt helpless and hopeless.  I plead for His Divine help and His healing hand. I told Him I desired His peace and comfort and the help to increase my faith.  I needed Him to calm my fears and my worried heart.

My experience in the temple was beautiful. Not because I was immediately healed, nor was I given concrete answers, but because I was encompassed in PEACE.  I also received several promptings from the Holy Ghost that I needed.  One prompting from the Spirit spoke to my mind very clearly:

Write about this baby daily.

Choose JOY. 

This child is MY gift to you.

This child is rejoicing to come to Earth and is grateful for your sacrifices.

The one miraculous thing that I never want to forget is how VERY active the baby was.  Up to that point and since, that was the most I have ever felt the baby.  At nearly 14 weeks pregnant, it's rare to feel the baby often, if at all, but that afternoon in the temple I marveled at the contentious movement.  I felt the love of my Father and Savior surround me while simultaneously feeling the enthusiasm of our precious baby.  Another day forever etched in my heart.

I invite you to come back and read of my journey through this pregnancy as I discover just who the Lord has selected to join our family.  I might even complain about my hair loss some more. *wink*

A serious reflection on parenting

I love my Paxton.  However, I've been paid a long-overdue visit from my dear friend, Karma.  Paxton is determined, bold, adventurous, impulsive and incredibly social.  He is me. In case you were wondering, I hate parenting a miniature version of myself. It's infuriating.

Paxton is giving us every opportunity to develop our patience.  In other words, I want to repeatedly beat my head with a frying pan every single day. 

Today he was especially demanding of patience, of which I had none.  It made for a colorful day!  By bedtime I had put myself in Mommy Timeout and handed off all parental obligations to Rod.  In-between exaggerated sobs, Paxton very furiously told Rodney, "YOU'RE FIRED!!!!!"

I love who Paxton is, but some days I have to remind myself *why* I love who he is. Since his birth, we recognized that our loving Heavenly Father sent one of His incredibly BOLD spirit children to our home.  I've always been keenly aware of his strengths, but he is young, therefore these characteristics are immature and often manifest themselves in unacceptable ways.  At the core of his occasional defiance, for example, is boldness, something he will need in order to, like Paul, boldly declare the gospel of Jesus Christ.

His behavior that makes me cringe are actually Divinely-given characteristics that need to be refined and mastered in order to be beneficial. His impulsive nature will mature into enthusiasm.  His stubbornness to become committed.  His brazen personality to become valiance. He already is this amazing, valiant, committed, enthusiastic person, but he is three years old. Like the rest of us, he is learning how to "put off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ".  

What scares me most is recognizing our central role in molding who he becomes.  I often (very, VERY often) feel the weight of responsibility that has been asked in raising two sons into the stalwart men Christ desires and NEEDS them to be.  I have never in all of my life spent more time on my knees praying for guidance than I have since I started having children.  That's because I know prayers are heard and answered by a loving Father, in His own way and time.  I also know that He is deeply concerned about all of His children.  I know that He knows and loves Paxton infinitely more than I can comprehend. I know that He knows how to parent Paxton infinitely better than I ever could and He is capable and *willing* to offer guidance, even to imperfect people like me.  This gives me great hope.

{{Maybe we won't ruin him?!?! This is yet to be determined.}}