One of the reasons I fell in love with Austin in the first place was because he was such a sweet guy. He was observant of my feelings and tender to my needs. He's was kind and gentle. He's also incredibly intelligent and capable of so much if and when he applies himself. Another of his virtues is that he loves diversity and variety in culture. And now, just because he doesn't treat me with love and respect, doesn't mean he doesn't treat my kids that way and teach them to emulate those positive behavioral traits.
I remember one day when we were engaged, I was sick, so instead of going out and exploring different parts of Utah, or just not getting to see each other, he came over and took care of me. He caressed my head gently and said sweet things to me. He let me sleep and respected me enough to just be with me.
I've been sick this week. It's never easy being sick. It's especially hard to be sick when you're a mom because you have to take care of everyone else. But the beginning of this week I didn't have my kids. And you know what, it's also hard to be sick when you're all alone. You don't have anyone to take care of you or help you (I guess I should mention I did have some help from a sweet friend who brought me cough drops and hugs).
Eva was sick on Saturday. She wanted me to hold her all day and she took at least three naps. I even held her as I worked on a portrait. I was glad to be her mom and give her the love and clam she needed to be able to recuperate. She ended up getting a blessing that night and was fine the next day, which is when I started feeling sick. I was wishing my mom was closer so she could take care of me.
I really do have extraordinary parents. My mom has spent most of the past month and a half in Utah helping my sister with her new baby. To say she's been missed would be an understatement. It seems she is needed everywhere.
Last night my other sister and her husband went on a date, leaving their feverish seven-month-old with me and our dad. This sweet baby is usually happy and fun, but he's also sick and like I said before, being sick is just hard. So he was a little cranky. I watched as my dad sat and held him as he quietly sang his typical made up songs to him. He hummed hymns to him. He took him to a dark room and got him to sleep. He's got this grandpa thing down. My dad is the hardest working man I've ever known. But it seems his loving kindness and gentleness has matched his strength and work ethic.
After our morning prayer the other day, Amelia asked me what "amen" means. I told her that it means, "I agree, and that we're giving it to the Lord." She told me that her dad said it means, "I'm going to stop talking now." I thought, wow, that's disrespectful, so I talked about it a little more and we looked up the definition on Google. Then she said something that hurt my heart.
"It's hard to know what to believe."
It was the hardest thing for me to hear my six-year-old say because of how true that statement is. I always try to talk to them about their fathers strengths and what he does know. I pointed out that there are going to be lots of things that come up that they are going to feel confused about (especially since their father and I have opposing views on so many things). And that's okay. They should ask questions and ask a variety of people whom they admire, like both parents, grandparents, Becky and Kimber, etc. I shared with them what I know and encourage them to confront the contradictory information with faith. To pray about it.
I have received comfort in trusting the Lord. He sent me these children. They are strong and capable of thinking and choosing the right. I worry a lot. About a lot of different things. Even things I can't control. But this is something I don't worry about. Even though it is one of the most important things to me. Because I know the Lord is helping me. Especially while I'm all alone.
When I was in college I would go the Provo Canyon a lot on my own to ponder, write in my journal, pray, or just be out in nature. It would help me to center myself and find peace and clarity. It would calm my nerves and it would calm my temper. It helped me to just be still. It was very healing. I really miss the Provo Canyon because it was so close and reliable. I knew I could feel close to God no matter what time of day or night it was.
I could drive for 20 minutes and get to one of my favorite secret spots. There, I could cry, and no one would be able to see me cry. I could look at the stars and just take them in and feel small. I have always been drawn to the nights sky. I like to recognize how insignificant I am in this vast universe, where there are billions of stars -innumerable- so many that it's just more than we can fathom. But somewhere in this massive, endless space is me, and God knows me. Not only that, but He loves me, and he is aware of me and my trivial problems. Maybe that's why I've always been fascinated with the feelings I get whenever when I look at the sky.
This week I went to go to the desert to watch the meteor shower which is something I haven't done since I was engaged and even then I missed it because, well, I was engaged... Anyway, none of my friends could go with me this time, which is fine because I got to be alone. I think God wants me to be alone right now. I don't know why but I'm okay with it. Plus it let me be with nature, the sky, and my thoughts.
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