The Pain in the Neck, or What I Learned This Week

by Jewel Leann Williams

Quick story:

This week my sweet eleven-year-old son managed to roll out of his top bunk in his sleep, and landed on the six-inch-tall pile of dirty clothes on the floor but tweaked his neck. He spent the whole week miserable. I took him to Urgent Care just to make sure it wasn't anything more than a "tweak" and thankfully, that was affirmed by the doctor. She gave us some really awesome gel to use and taught him some great stretches. She told us that, even though it really hurts to do so, the best way to permanently relieve the pain is by gently stretching the area, and instead of holding everything as still as possible, to move it as much as possible. We left the office and I continued for the next few days to remind my son to move his head and neck, to do stretches, etc.

Two days later, after a night wherein the adorable four-year-old princess invaded our bed, I found myself with an inexplicable but excruciating pain in my upper back--one of those knots underneath the shoulder blade that is about impossible to get to. I commandeered some of the really awesome gel, and the husband gave me as much of a massage in that area as possible. I resigned myself to not doing the things I had planned, because how was I going to scrub two showers when I couldn't lift my arm?

The doctor's words came back to me:  no matter how much it hurts, the best thing for you to do at this point is to move it. So, I did. At first I was glad that no one was in the room with me, because I swore a little more than a little and was making this whining noise that was quite unbecoming.  Anyway, after a while, I did find that the pain lessened enough for me to start my chores (scrubbing the kids' shower was imperative, it's their job but it had been done poorly or not at all for long enough that it... well, you get the picture).  After about an hour of scrubbing (I'm not exaggerating, and I was only half done--it was bad) I realized that it didn't hurt at all anymore. Moving really, really helped!

My point in this isn't to wallow in the pity of how terrible my kids' shower was (it was really, really bad. I soaked it in cleaner, scrubbed it, and then soaked and scrubbed it again). It's not even to whine about the pain or the fact that when my little girl sneaks into bed with us, I always feel like I was run over by a train the next day.  While I was contemplating the fact that I would have not had the "move it and it will help" advice fresh on my mind had I not just been dealing with muscle pain for my boy, the Spirit whispered to me that this is an analogy for life in general.

We have trials, and they teach us things. They make us stronger. They make us more empathetic when other people go through the same things. They also give us knowledge that we can share with others who may find themselves in similar circumstances. In short, our trials are a gold mine if we can look beyond the pain and see them as learning--and teaching--experiences.

After all, the Savior himself suffered in Gethsemane to personally know how to succor us. In Alma 7, it explains that Jesus took upon himself the pains and afflictions of his people, that is, all of us, so that he would know according to the flesh how to succor his people. He could have known, in His head, by the Spirit, how to provide comfort. But there is something to be said for feeling the same pains--he wanted to physically know--according to the flesh--how our infirmities and trials make us feel so that he could truly know how to provide comfort and assistance to us. What love our Savior has for us!

This isn't a new way of looking at trials for me; but it is a good reminder that I needed this week.

In closing, I'd invite you to read Alma 7 for one of the most beautiful descriptions of our Savior's mission and Atonement.  And remember, our trials are there for a reason--they are our lessons in this school of life.

A Shoulder to Cry On

By Lacey Gunter

Life can be so difficult at times. For anyone who is experiencing the pain and sorrow that comes from injury, loss or difficult trials, I wish I could jump through this web page and give you a tender hug and a shoulder to cry on.  One thing I can do is tell you that you are not experiencing this alone.

In chapter 11 of John in the New Testament of the Bible we hear the story of Lazarus dying and being brought back to life by Jesus. In the King James version of the Bible we read in versus 32-35

32 Then when Mary was come where Jesus was, and saw him, she fell down at his feet, saying unto him, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.

33 When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled,

34 And said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto him, Lord, come and see.
35 Jesus wept.

Isn't verse 35 an interesting scripture to think about? We have no reason to think Jesus is weeping for Lazarus’s soul here. There is nothing in the chapter that even hints at the idea that Lazarus has died in sin. And Jesus understood the plan of salvation and the purpose of death and the assurance of a beautiful and better place after this earthly life better than anyone else who has ever lived on earth.

One might try to conjecture here that Jesus is simply morning the loss of a friend. He is sad because he believes he will not have the joy of interacting with Lazarus again until Jesus himself has passed on and returned to Heaven. Of course this idea doesn't seem very plausible since we learn earlier in the chapter that Jesus's main purpose in coming to Lazarus's house was to raise Lazarus from the dead. Not much of a sorrow inducing separation.

And yet, it says that he groaned in his spirit and he wept. The only conclusion I can come to here is that Jesus is troubled and weeping because of the sorrow he feels seeing the great sadness Mary and the other Jews are experiencing. He knows he will shortly end their mourning by bringing Lazarus back to life, yet he is so touched by their tender and brokenhearted feelings that he can't help but cry with them first. Wow, what a powerful and expressive demonstration of the true love and compassion of the Savior.

I believe the Savior loves each of us this way.  We may not get the privilege to witness it, but perhaps the Savior has sat and cried with each one of us at one time or another.  And after both of your tears have finally dried, Christ still has the power to heal your heart and cleanse your soul. You are not alone! I pray you can feel Christ's love and compassion and that you may have the strength and courage to take another step and face another day.

One Contraction at a Time

- a post by Jeanna Mason Stay

A couple of weeks ago, I gave birth to our fourth child. It was a harder labor than I expected, partially because I had managed to convince myself that my childbirth experiences really were supposed to get easier with each child (lies! all lies!), and partially because, well, childbirth.

Still, in retrospect, it really wasn’t all that dreadful. Nine hours total, only about half of that being truly, all-encompassingly difficult, and even during those five-ish really hard hours, contractions came . . . and they went. In between most contractions, there was a period (short though it may have been) of physical calm, of reprieve. And in the end, of course, out came my gorgeous, adorable, handsome little baby, giving meaning to the process and the pain and the exhaustion and the fear.

In the midst of the experience, though, there were so many times when I thought, “Why am I doing this?!” and “I can’t do this anymore!” and “I am so tired; I just need a break,” and, of course, “I am never letting my husband touch me again.”* The process was overwhelming, stretching me (ha! literally!) beyond what I think of as my capacity. And yet, here I am, still alive, still kicking (gently, because I’m still a little sore). So clearly it was within my capacity. Clearly I was measuring my capacity wrong.

Adjusting to having this new baby in our family has been (and will continue to be) a challenge, the same way that all major life changes tend to be a challenge, even when the change is wonderful. He takes up so much of my time and energy, and there are so many other needs to be met along with his. I occasionally find myself wondering how we’re all going to get through the coming weeks and months.

And yet, I know we will. We have the capacity, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

One strategy that helped in dealing with the difficulty of labor was to take things one contraction at a time. When I thought about how much I might have left, how much labor was still before me, I was overwhelmed and terrified. When I just worked on getting through just the next contraction, it was still hard—it was hard, but it was more bearable. I was reminded that I didn’t have to do it all at once.

And so, on a particularly challenging day or in a terrible, exhausting minute, I hope to try to remember this: Contractions come, but they also go. I don’t need to worry about the struggles to come down the road. I only have to get through this next contraction, this next hardest moment. Even when it seems like there is only hard stuff, I can look at and recognize those calm spaces in between. And, most of all, I can know that God has granted me the capacity to move through life’s contractions, to reach the prizes along the way. Our capacity to stretch and grow and create is far greater than we recognize. The contractions are how we make room in our lives for wonderful blessings. They prepare us to give birth to great things.

* Okay, so I really just tossed that one in because it’s standard, right?

Rock on

By Beckie Carlson
Do you ever get on of those nagging thoughts that just won't go away? Maybe it's a problem you can't figure out. Or maybe its worrying about someone you care about. Maybe it's wondering how you got to this strange life you live. It plagues you at night...interrupting dreams of River Dance with Brandon Fraser, or reruns of New Girl. It's annoying.

I've never had that. You all are weird.

Seriously. I have had a tickle of a thought the last few weeks. It's been something that pulls at my heart strings a bit. I don't have an answer (surprise) but I feel the need to ask the question.

As you may or may not know, I have lived all across the Southern United States. Being in Aerospace, we moved around quite a bit. I've met some wonderful people all across this beautiful land. I'm not great at keeping in touch with people, but I do check up with them on FB. Before that....yeah, I sucked. It is neat to be able to peek in on people I used to see at the school or church regularly, without having to pick up the phone and make awkward calls. I hate talking on the phone.

So, lately (three years or so) I've noticed that several of the women I've know from the various states, have gotten divorced and left the church. I look at these women and I see them as I knew them. They were my visiting teaching companions, my kids primary teachers, scout leaders, etc. They were, in my eyes, spiritual giants. I looked up to these women because they knew stuff. They understood it. They would bear their testimonies and I could feel it. I admit, I leaned on them a bit when I was weak.  What happened?

I know that several of them had awesome husbands that ended up cheating on them. Sometimes with other awesome women I looked up to. How does it happen? How does a person go from being rock solid in the gospel, to leaving it all behind and living another life?

I look at their beautiful pictures of strapless evening gowns, new weddings, strategic tattoos....and I wonder if they ever wake up in the middle of the night and ask themselves where they are. How did they get to this strange life they are living?

There are a lot of single people out there. They all have their reasons for being where they are. The choices we make are ours. No matter what choice anyone else makes, we are still accountable for ours. I'm not judging anyone here. My heart hurts for these beautiful women. Sure, my husband died, and that was hard. It is still hard. But I couldn't do it without my testimony and the gospel in my life.

Maybe I'm weak? Maybe I need that rock to build on. Maybe, it takes strength to hold on to it.
Cause I said so.

Photo credit: www.shop411.com

Slamming Doors, Lemons, Wrenches, Storms, and Other Confusing Things

On Saturday morning, my bishop (pastor) called me.

As you fellow Mormons know, that is rarely a good thing.

He asked if he could come over that evening to speak with me. About a calling. (A calling is an unpaid job in the church- pretty much every Mormon has one.)

That’s when I knew for sure I was in trouble. You see, I hold two callings: one in public affairs and one as a music leader for the children in my ward (congregation). I knew I wasn’t going to get a third calling, because everyone (especially the bishop) knows I’m too busy with the callings I already have. Which meant I was going to lose a calling. And it wasn’t going to be the public affairs, because that’s at the stake (regional) level, and that’s the stake president’s jurisdiction. Which meant it was my music calling.

*sigh*

My music calling is the bestest calling in the church. I get to be creative, I get to teach, I get to sing, and I get to PLAY with the most wonderful, sweet, amazing children, who have such a strong spirit about them. So when the bishop said he wanted to speak with me?

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

But alas. It was true. My days as a music leader are now over. I was called to serve in the Relief Society (women’s organization) presidency.

Don’t get me wrong- I do love the Relief Society. It is an extraordinary organization that strengthens and uplifts women in so many ways, and it is a privilege to get to serve with them.

But will I ever get to bring in a screaming monkey toy and yell “INCOMING!” as I shoot it across the room?

Probably not. So it will be an adjustment.

Anyway, as I have been struggling with this sudden change (found out Saturday night, my last day with the kids was Sunday- *sniff sniff*) I have been having to hold onto my faith- my belief that this is the Lord’s work and that I am following His plan. Fittingly, the Sacrament hymn (which came right after the announcement of my release and new calling in Sacrament meeting) was, “Thy Will, O Lord, Be Done.” The very last part of the last line of that song is this: "And pray for strength, that we may say,
As he, 'Thy will, O Lord, be done.’”

So, why am I sharing all this? Well, I think we all have wrenches thrown into our lives at one time or another- those things that happen that throw us for a loop and leave us stunned and saying, “What just happened?” But there is one essential truth to remember which I think is described perfectly in this quotation (which is by someone of a different faith but I happily accept truth wherever I find it):

"Trials are a part of our experience...As surely as the stars are fashioned by His hands, and their orbits fixed by Him, so surely are our trials allotted to us. He has ordained their season and their place, their intensity and the effect they shall have upon us. Good men must never expect to escape troubles; if they do, they will be disappointed, for none of their predecessors have been without them." - Alistair Begg

My situation might not necessarily be considered a “trial”, but I think this applies to any change: those things that we face might surprise us, but they don’t surprise Him.

I heard a story recently of a woman who had spent hours and hours helping her son finish a big school project. The night before the project was due, the woman was checking the weather for the next day and saw that some nasty storms would be in their area in the morning. Before going to bed, she carefully wrapped her son’s project, ensuring that it would be protected and ready to go the next morning.

The next morning her son woke up distraught, saying, “Mom! It’s pouring down rain outside! My project will be ruined!” His mother calmed him down and said, “Son, it’s okay! I knew the storms were coming and I took care of it. Your project will be fine. I got this.”

This lady went on to say that so often in our lives, when the storms come, we go to God in a panic and say, “What is this? I’m not ready for this!” Yet we don’t remember or realize that He knows about every storm, and He has prepared us for them- He wouldn’t let us go through it unless we were ready.

He’s got this.

So why this change at this time for me? I don’t know. And I don’t have to know. I just have to trust. Who knows? Maybe I can use all that creative energy I had been using to plan lessons for those kids to write my book instead... ;-)

I Believe Christ

by Katy White

My 14 month old was recently sick.  The kind of sick that has you thinking some pretty dark worst-case scenarios when you're a new mom.  I took her to the doctor on the first day of her sickness because she had such a high fever.  The doctor ran some tests, ruled some things out, and then said some other things, like pneumonia, were quite possible.  She gave me several "warning signs" to watch out for, and told me that I should go to Urgent Care if I saw any of these signs.  Of course, she also told me that most things were not emergencies.  So...um...

Mixed messages from doctors are fun.

That night, my daughter woke up after only a few hours of sleep.  She had a high fever, but she was also shivering and whimpering.  She also had some new symptoms that felt awfully like some of the warning signs the doctor had cautioned me to watch for.  But not exactly.  I had no idea what to do.  I picked her up and held her and prayed urgently to know how to help her.  I asked Heavenly Father a very specific question and asked him for a very specific answer:  if she coughed and the rattling throat cleared, I would know that she was fine.  As I thought those words, she coughed!  The rattling in her throat cleared instantly!  It was a sign from the Lord, and I felt so relieved.

Not ten seconds later, she vomited three times.

Oh. No.

All thoughts of the answer I'd just received fled my mind.  I called the on-call nurse and then a dear friend, who is also a nurse, and told them everything.  They both felt that she did not have the warning signs I feared and told me some specific things to watch out for.  I cleaned up my baby girl, gave her more medicine, and put her back to bed.  Then I prayed again to be able to believe the advice that I was given.  I felt peace quickly wash over me, and I felt myself calm down.

Within five minutes, she woke up screaming and crying.

The peace I'd just felt evaporated.  I jumped up, ran into her room, and picked her up, sure that this fear I was feeling was actually what Heavenly Father was trying to tell me this whole time.  I called my husband, who was in Florida for work and absolutely terrified to be getting a call in the middle of the night.  I told him everything.  He agreed with the nurse and our friend and our doctor and said that he thought I needed to allow myself to trust them, but if I couldn't, that he would of course support me in whatever I thought I should do.  (He also said sweet things about how our daughter has a wonderful mother and that he was so sorry he couldn't be there to hug me.  I missed him more than I ever have in my life.)  Most importantly, he told me to trust the Lord.

I realized then what my problem was.  My problem wasn't my sick baby girl.  My problem in that moment was that I didn't believe my Heavenly Father.  I could say that I simply didn't believe in my ability to interpret an answer from Him, but that's not quite true.

I'm really, really good at resigning myself to my trials in life.  Like most everyone, I have experienced a fair amount of trials, some sorer than others.  It has been easy for me to view this mortal existence as a time to experience trials and loss and pain.  I have long considered our reactions to these "accidents of mortality" as the true test of mortality.  Because of this perspective, I have found myself in many situations where my faith is tested, but not where I have tested my faith.

Yet Heavenly Father tells us to test him!  He says in Malachi 3:10 "...and prove me now herewith...if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it."  And Enos 1:6 tells us, "And I...knew that God could not lie."

Okay, so God promises us blessings and cannot lie.  In other words, He asks us to hold Him to his promises.  So when He tells us, in John 14:27, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.  Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid," it's up to us - to me - to believe Him.

So.  That's my goal.  I wish I could say I'm already there, but I'm not.  I believe in Christ, but now I need to believe Him.

And maybe that is the true test of mortality.

PLOT TWIST!

by Kasey Tross

After I read Ashley & Jessica’s wonderful post from yesterday I realized that mine was quite similar- but I guess that just means it’s a lesson somebody out there needs right now. So I apologize if you are not that person and if this feels slightly repetitive. :-)

First, Happy Labor Day! Second, I discovered this little gem of advice one day on facebook, and last week it came in handy. I was up in my (admittedly messy) craft room searching for my extra stash of school supplies in preparation for taking my kids to the open house at school when I felt a piercing, sharp pain in my big toe. Imagine my shock and horror when I found this poking out:

And even more so when I tell you that from the point of the needle to where my fingers are in the photo was completely buried in my toe. That’s right- at least an inch of metal.

Well, after screaming (and perhaps uttering a few very un-Mormon-like words) I collapsed onto the floor and yelled for my daughter (who is not as old as my son, but much calmer about these sorts of things) to grab the first aid kit. I took some deep breaths, prayed for God to ease my panic, and waited. She brought the first aid kit, and I removed a piece of sterile gauze that I could use to staunch the bleeding once I removed the needle. I carefully placed the gauze over the entry point and began to pull.

The pain came, but the needle didn’t. It was really, really stuck in there. I bit my knuckle, then got back to work, wrapping the string that was threaded through the needle around my finger so I could get a better grip. Then I just pulled. Hard. And tried not to scream.

As I removed the offending object, I had flashbacks of labor and delivery- yeah, it was bad. You know how in movies they always show people pulling knives and swords out of themselves? Well, for one thing, it’s not as easy as it looks. And for another thing, it hurts a LOT more than it did when it went in. Plus, you have to get over the fact that YOU are the one causing the pain this time and that essentially, you could make it stop- but really, you can’t, because people can’t just walk around with needles sticking out of their big toes.

So anyway, my little helper followed a few more instructions and I got myself bandaged up (even though, much to my surprise, it didn’t really bleed- I was expecting a gusher after all that pain) and hobbled downstairs clutching the two red pens and one pink highlighter I had gone up there to retrieve in the first place. I was still in quite a bit of pain, and realized that this was definitely throwing a kink into my plans to go to my kids’ open house.

But I remembered this bit of advice and with a pained smile on my face I yelled, “PLOT TWIST!” My kids probably looked at me very confused, but I was still slightly delirious with pain, so I didn’t really notice. Then I did what any brave heroine would do when faced with a plot twist: I sucked it up. I took two ibuprofen for the pain, called my mom and husband and told them what happened (because it seems like the kind of thing moms and husbands should know- and I needed the prayers) and packed up the kids and went, hobbling all the way. Keep Calm and CARRY ON, people!

So what does this have to do with anything? Well, other than the clever writing allusion and the helpful information about stab wounds (you know, in case someone in your story decides to get themselves run through), it has a lot to do with life, and especially motherhood. Your life is a story- it’s the story of you, and like any good story the main character must face obstacles in order to grow and progress. In my story, a mother was already facing the challenge of getting two older children prepared for school and trying to keep the younger ones from disrupting the process when suddenly she was struck down by an unforeseen challenge in the form of a sharp, unfortunately placed needle.

There are times in our life story when stuff just happens, and it’s not anyone’s fault (well, maybe mine for leaving a needle on the floor) and you can sit and moan about it and complain but really, all that will do is add a bad attitude to an already bad situation. The one thing you can control when bad stuff happens is how you will react. You are in charge of the main character in your story- YOU! Be the heroine and accept what has happened, do what you can to remedy it, despite how unpleasant and inconvenient it may be, and move on. Because that’s what heroines do. Especially when you have kids- you just don’t have time to bemoan your bad luck and feel sorry for yourself. As a wise woman once said, “Ain’t nobody got time fo dat!”

So, when something in your life goes wrong- you get all the way to checkout at the grocery store with all four kids, the cashier rings up all the groceries and you realize you left your wallet at home (also last week), you are about to make dinner and realize you are completely out of a key ingredient (that was last week too), you pull a muscle in your foot from jamming your last 3 toes into the high chair (okay, last week was kinda rough, apparently)- just yell, “PLOT TWIST!” and move on.

Even if it means you have to hobble.

:-)

Saturday So What: Wrong Turn

We've all seen one of these in our lives. Whether in personal or family life, or in our writing -- things are going smooth then Wham, bumpy dirt road.

I recently had this experience in both aspects of my life.  Things were going great, I was sailing along, the words just pouring through my fingers. We're talking 5000 words a day. Then boom, couldn't get a single sentence out. Something just felt wrong. It wasn't easy, it literally felt like slogging through quicksand. Write a paragraph, delete it.  Delete the paragraph before it. Wonder why I am a writer anyway since I clearly sucked.

A day off and a little perspective taught me that I had gone the wrong way in the scene prior. That's why I was having trouble making it work. If you have to force and trudge it to come out, chances are you have made a little error in the progression of your story.  Maybe a character's voicing or attitude is wrong. Or the reasoning for an action doesn't track. It can really throw you off.

The same thing applies to home life. When my day just feels like I am trudging through that mud and the kids are being little demons, I probably took a wrong turn somewhere. I might have started the day with the wrong attitude. I might have my priorities messed up.

Sometimes I feel like I keep going down that bumpy dirt path until I get a flat tire, rather than taking a moment to turn myself around.

So my advice for the week is if your having a rough road as a writer or at home, Stop. Look back and find that spot it went from smooth to that three hour tour that never ends. Go back to that spot and turn yourself around.

Saturday So What: Mommy Writer's Guilt

I have an epic case of Mommy Writer's Guilt. I am neck deep in revisions and the changes that I thought would be easy, have ended up altering the entire structure of my book. Characters are falling by the wayside.  Lost and forgotten.  Including the two most important characters... my kids.

I have an almost 3 yr old and a 5 and half yr old. I'm worried that for the last week and the next one to come, they are orphans. My husband is going to school full time and in the middle of finals. When he's home, he's locked in his office.And I have spent at least 40 hours this week making the editorial revisions. Trying to meet my deadline in a week and a half.

If I don't lock myself away, then I am constantly distracted by the screaming and guts flying everywhere. Don't worry-- it was just the Teddy Bear's. He pulled through the reconstructive surgery. If I wait until they are asleep, I can only make it until 10 oclock before my brain turns to mush.

To make matters worse, next week I start school again too. For five hours a day, the little ones are going to be shipped off to grandma's, summer camp, or whoever else I can get to take them. I feel horrible. Up until this year, I have been a stay at home mom who's main task of the day was making sure the kids had bathtime.

 I am used to spending every waking moment with my kids. They still follow me to the bathroom. Now I'm seeing them less and less. Normally, I try not to let my WIP take time from my kids. I write during preschool or dance class. But schools out, and the deadline is looming.

Am I just making excuses by saying that it's only temporary? Just another week and then when I'm home.. I'm all theirs? Or am I horrible mommy neglecting my kids?

Do you struggle with writing and other pursuits getting in the way of family time? What do you do? Any thoughts or comments would be appreciated. Sorry that this isn't my normal upbeat kind of post, but I wanted to share what I was feeling.

Hopefully I can survive the next 8 days, but if not, you can read me post mortem :) This week's posts are De-Sensitivity Training for the Zombie Apocalypse and The Incredible Shrinking Catwoman.

Thanking My Heavenly Father for Unanswered Prayers

I've had a few reflective days where looking back on it all I'm so grateful for the little unanswered prayers in my life.  Those prayers that were so huge and desperate at the time... in the end, saved me so much more heartache.

Like the time I begged the Lord to let me stay in my beautiful home in Chatteris, England, even though the promptings to leave could not be ignored and eventually we did.  Moving when I was 8 months pregnant.

Or when I begged the Lord a few weeks later to not take my husband to Iraq until after the baby (our sixth) was born.  So things would work out and he could see her.  When she was a week overdue and my husband left, and the doctors were not able to induce me due to complications, it was when I nearly cursed God.  Nearly.  I felt it was the hardest thing I ever had to do--be over nine months pregnant with so many children and say goodbye to my husband.  I was scared, and angry... and in a new place where I knew no one.

Only to find a week later and a prolapsed umbilical cord... Had I not moved, had my husband stayed, had anything at all been different--so many little miracles in a row--I wouldn't be laughing with my 4 year old today.  They say it was a miracle she survived at all... I know for a fact, had my husband been there or had I lived 30 minutes from the hospital in my old house, my life would've been so much more miserable than it was the few weeks before.

My Heavenly Father knew, that even though he was breaking my heart, I really, really wanted to have a baby in my arms, more than I wanted my husband there to witness her death or a beautiful house to bury her nearby.  He knew much more than I did--

And it was this lesson, the lesson when I nearly cursed my God, that I realized no matter what unanswered prayers I'm given, no matter what trials, or disappointments come my way, I will realize and see that I do not know the big picture, that my Heavenly Father does love me and watches out for me.  I will never (nearly) curse Him again.

I also realize and own the fact, he could take anyone I love at any moment... but if he did, it would be okay.  Because each day is a blessing with them.  Each moment a precious gift, and I will be grateful for all the gifts and learning opportunities I am given--even if they are for just a moment.

So just remember, if the burden you carry seems too hard at the moment, and you feel as if you're asked to do too many things you didn't count on, be grateful.  Get on your knees and thank God for every trial in your life.  Because you do not know what would happen if things were different.  Had you stayed in that home.  Had your husband continued to work for that company...

Or had your book been published when you thought it should've been.  Lol!  He has his hand in everything.
Everything happens for a reason.  Be truly grateful for all those reasons.  And every unanswered prayer.

--Jenni James

Psst!  It's finally here!  My book is finally here!  I held in my hands on Thursday at my very first signing.  (it was at a booksellers convention, for buyers from around the US, Canada, England, etc. to decide if they want to sell my book in their store.  I'm very happy to say Pride & Popularity will be in stores very soon! Eeep.