Miracles are happening.
It was no small consideration to get a divorce. This has been years of heart-wrenching thought and prayer. Just because a path is what is right for me, does not in anyway make it easy. And it not being easy, doesn’t make it wrong. All I have to do is look to the Jaredites in the Book of Mormon. Blessings: getting to be with family and some friends. Not so great: Make a boat, travel on said boat in close quarters with said family and friends. Try not to get drowned by whales, only to arrive in a land that you need to make all your own from scratch. Certainly the blessings are there, but that sure doesn’t mean there aren’t a lot of scary parts.
And here I sit in the scary parts. The unsures of the future. Certainly I made a plan. I even had it reviewed by a fabulous financial planner who gave it his stamp of approval. But here I am. Sitting in that boat I have somehow figured out how to build with the help of the Lord (figuratively, of course, since I live in the high desert). I’m out on the water, and here come the thoughts of, “by golly, I sure hope this works. Do I have it in me to make this happen? I am doing what I am suppose to be doing? These kids are depending on me to accomplish this, but what if I am just not enough?”
The only thing I can figure out to do is hold tight to the divine inspiration I know, I KNOW, I received. It happened, that I cannot deny. Nor can I deny the process of events that have led me to where I am now. But that water sure looks dark, and I don’t have much experience taking a boat from one continent to another.
I had been feeling rather overwhelmed and lonely. Lots of sickness means no babysitting, which means I get far behind on my school work. Thankfully, a blessing I have received is the ability to understand complicated information much faster than I should be able to on the number of hours of sleep I have been getting. But, when we are talking about 3-4 hours of interrupted sleep a night, things get tough to hold together. So I finally had enough brain power to pray yesterday. I asked for help. I asked that maybe someone could help me cope with the responsibilities on my shoulders. That I have a hard time feeling like I am bothering people when I ask for the help that I really need, which is time with the kids.
10 minutes later, my Bishop calls. Tells me to have the kids make Christmas lists and to give them to him on Sunday. That some nice people in the ward would like to help out some families, so he is calling me.
Today I head to church, feeling overwhelmingly humble that I have been remembered by the Lord and by my ward family. With no family close by, it is nice to be thought of. The kids were feral cats at church. The lack of sleep, recent illness (though they are well now), and other situations just made the boys especially nuts. It was a happy nuts, where they were joyfully harassing one another.
Very. Loudly. Jumping all over.
I finally took all 3 out into the foyer of the church and separated them onto different chairs spread out. Of course I am thinking, “why am I here?” I remind myself that I find value in the pattern of attending church and being a part of a ward, that the Sacrament is the most important part of my attendance, but attending all meetings is important to me to show my children. Out marches my neighbor from my house I just sold. “Which one do you want me to take?” My daughter will only consent (and is excited) to go with her. The boys are fine enough in the foyer. I take the kids to class, hand in the Christmas list. The neighbor finds me and gives me a big hug and insists that I need to sit by her every Sunday. I am crying at this point, being so sleep deprived and overwhelmed. She continues to ask me what I need. I am so scatterbrained, but she feels right through this and got to the heart of my needs. She insists she can watch my kids as I need for the next couple weeks.
What a miracle. I was shown that I am not alone on this path I am walking.
I am humbled. I am grateful.
