Wednesday, November 10, 2010

blogging out some grief

I am supposed to be heading to bed, but a quick stop by my sil's blog has the tears rolling. Since I've been avoiding blogging because I haven't wanted any MORE chances to cry, I thought I might at as well seize the moment. I have a friend that talked about how grief is good at blindsiding you and, to that, I say "Amen, sista." You never know when it is going to hit you or how hard it is going to hit.

The last 8 months have been full of experiences that showed me just how hard our Heavenly Father was trying to make a very horrible experience as easy as possible. When I sit down and think of all of the little things that made such an enormous impact on all of us, I am beyond grateful. How could I be anything but grateful when it has been made so blatantly obvious that my Heavenly Father is so very aware of each and every one of us?

Every time I am in a crying mood, I figure I'll journal one of these moments. I know I have already posted about how appreciative I was for Heavenly Father's preparation for this "tornado". (or more like a category 5 hurricane) I realize that Heavenly Father can't really send you advanced notices regarding upcoming trials in your life, but I think he did just about as much as he could for me. About a month before we found out that Becky's problems went beyond a benign lump in her breast, my family made the trek to General Conference. As I was sitting in the Saturday morning session, Julie Beck's talk spoke to my soul. I could not escape the message that I received, which was a message to simplify. I knew that I needed to stop my photography adventures and focus on my family. I needed to hear the message that a mother doesn't need to do something just because she can.

I came back from conference and put the kibosh on my photography. I pretty much stopped crafting and many other things that were insignificant yet were sucking up a lot of my time. I simplified in a major way. Little did I know that I was being prepared for Becky's phone call (on Chris' birthday, overlooking the Cape Meares light house) telling me that her tumor was malignant. Having just emptied my life of many things that lacked any eternal importance, my schedule was free for quick trips to Washington to spend time with my sweet sister. I did not have anything going on because Heavenly Father had already helped me with that. I count each of those trips to see her as treasures and sacred moments that allowed us to talk about the paths ahead. I always felt like I was on holy ground when I was with her over the summer. There was a special spirit that was with her throughout this and I kind of feel honored just to have been able to spend time with such a choice soul in the midst of this monumental trial.