The Do-Over

This is me, at approximately one o'clock yesterday afternoon.  Red flannel pajamas, hair unkempt, sans makeup.

Just keeping it real.

To say that the last week has been a challenge would be a horrible understatement.  Last week I was the lucky winner of a particularly unpleasant stomach bug that turned me into a walking zombie for several days.  And of course, being the caring and compassionate mother that I am, I had to share with the rest of the household.  All of us, except Bryson, have fallen victim to this nasty little virus.  Lucky duck.

Because of Bryson's challenging work schedule of late, I have been pretty much on my own taking care of our sick little brood.  It has made for some very long days and nights.  I really don't want to go into revolting detail, but just picture a first grader, a kindergartner, and two eighteen-month-old babies going through the worst stomach virus you can imagine. Welcome to my week.

It has been Vile.
With a capital V.
And I've been a mom for several years now.
There are few things that gross me out anymore.

But do you know what?

I am so incredibly happy. 
Yep, you read that absolutely right.

You see, a few weeks ago I found myself in a similar situation-- albeit not as bad-- as the one I am in right now.  Fighting a minor cold myself, I was struggling terribly as I tried to tend to my sweet little Logan-- who was suffering through an ear infection and sore throat.  He would not be consoled.  There was nothing I could do to stop his heart-breaking cries, except pray.  But my faith wasn't enough to take away my baby's pain.  As his wails continued into the night for hours, I began to feel incredibly powerless.  And resentful.

I wanted a miracle.  I wanted God to take my order and deliver immediately.  I wanted my husband to be home, where he could help me.  I wanted to sleep so that I could get over my own cold.
Wanted, wanted, wanted.

I even called up my husband at an unearthly hour and vented.
Okay, so "vented" may not be entirely accurate.
"Tantrum" is the word coming to mind that seems most appropriate here.

After I got a few meager hours of sleep and came to myself, I started seeing my actions with new eyes.

S-H-A-M-E.

I was mortified.  Had I really just presumed to counsel the Lord?  Had I really just told off my husband with complete and utter ingratitude for all he does for my family?  I wanted to crawl under a rock.  I felt like I had been given an important test and I had failed.  Miserably.

I called Bryson and apologized profusely.  I spent quite a bit of time that morning in silent prayer as I tended to my sick little boy.  I pleaded for forgiveness and for a chance to prove myself, to try again.  I prayed for the strength to do better. 

I got my chance this week.

It has surprised me how different things have been.  Even though the sickness has been so much worse in scope and severity, I have stayed upbeat through it all.  Sure, I'm tired.  But I have seen the blessings of being able to care for my family with such greater clarity this time around.

I am blessed to be in a position to care for these precious little ones.

As I have held them close and comforted them through this illness, there has been no resentment.  Only gratitude.  Instead of being so selfishly focused, I have tried to forget myself and get to work.  (Thank you, President Hinckley!)  And the funny thing is, it has only increased my own feelings of love and happiness.   

In 1984, Elder Russell C. Taylor, then of the First Quorum of the Seventy gave a fantastic discourse on service.  I happened upon it recently, and was struck by the power in these words:

I can say unashamedly, I rejoice in the service of God.  My experience teaches that the highest goodness attainable is a life of unselfish service to mankind...  Some mistakenly think that a commitment to service comes after a great spiritual experience.  This is like the man who is cold, standing before the stove, and saying, "Give me heat, and then I will put in some wood."  The joy and blessings of service follow the rendering of service. 

There comes a time in the life of all people when they must certify with their actions what they believe.  Jesus said of His own life, "The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister." (Matt. 20:28)

Fathers and mothers, with your strength of example you will influence your sons and daughters for eternity with examples of loving, uncomplaining service far more convincingly by doing than only by saying.
("The Joy of Service," October 1984 Conference Report, emphases in original text) 

I can truly attest to the joy and blessings than come from selfless service.

As I cradled my baby girl recently, bathing her for likely the third time that day, the words of the Savior played repeatedly in my mind.

Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. (Matt. 25:40)

I have learned that as we serve our children with a deepened desire to lay our selfish interests on the Lord's altar, that He will strengthen us in ways we cannot imagine.  He will never shut us out-- and often when we are feeling that He has, it is often due to our actions-- that we have shut Him out.

If we can but humble ourselves, He will lift us above ourselves and fill us with an abundance of peace and joy.

Truly, my cup runneth over.

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Celebrate giving with gratitude this month with us!