Peace

Every spring I'm reminded about how much ants love our house.  Big ones, small ones, they're all particularly fond of our bathrooms and kitchen and, until we spray, we can always find a trail leading to piles of them underneath our kitchen island or in our wastebaskets.  When I sweep the kitchen floor, I'm left with a squirmy pile of them, running in all directions.  They're fast, but not fast enough to run further than my outstretched broom and they keep getting drawn back into the pile until they're all swept into the dustpan and flicked to a more appropriate ant-home (ie - outside). 

I was thinking about them today.  Most specifically about those moments I've spent sweeping them into a pile and watching them scatter.  I think I'm a bit like one of those ants... consistently following a cycle of being drawn back into the pile (which will ultimately lead to a better life) and wandering away.  But whenever I wander I can expect to feel the soft straw of a broom, held by the Lord, gently push me back to the pile.

Now, I realize this analogy has several holes in it and that there is another analogy that is much, much cleaner and easier to understand involving sheep and a shepherd but... I'm not exactly a shepherd.  I haven't even met a shepherd.  And, I haven't ever touched a sheep outside of a petting zoo. So, it's a little hard for me to put myself in their shoes.  An ANTherd, on the other hand, I know something about.  I've watched the ants scatter, and I've brought them back again and again.  So, that's what we have to go with.

Anyway - my little ant self has been swept back into the pile again.  General Conference has a way of doing that for me.  Every time...

Every six months, Mormons around the world gather to listen to our prophet and other church leaders speak to us.  These talks are dear to me and always, always, I find something (multiple somethings) to strengthen me, uplift me, and encourage me to be a little better and to happily hang in there a little longer. 

This season's message to me was one of peace.  There were so many gentle and bold reminders that the way to feel peace in your hearts and your homes is by obediently following the commandments of God. 

McKenzie listening to our prophet, Thomas S. Monson

I know that.  I've known that for as long as I can remember.  I've not only known that, but I've felt the peace that comes from living the gospel many times over.  Yet, in this trying time of my life where things just seem to be falling apart at every seam, I somehow lost hold of the strongest lifeline I had.  We were barely hanging on through an emotional pregnancy full of the regular fatigue and slothfulness, but we lost our hold when Brian's heart attack almost took him from us.  We were filled with gratitude and humility for his life... but somehow our family scripture study and prayer were forgotten as seemingly more pressing issues took their place.  Kids' bedtime was hard... Brian was tired, I was big and pregnant tired, and the children were acting out... shaken by the inconsistency of their own little lives.  Somehow the goal of 'getting the children in bed' was a goal of mammoth proportions and, no question, the path of least resistance did not include scripture study and family prayer.  We were lucky if it included brushing teeth.  

McKenzie took the camera for a bit.

Timothy was born smack dab in the middle of it all.  Four and a half weeks early, he gave us something new to start healing from.  So, the healing from the heart attack was put on hold as we adjusted to life with a new baby.  A new small baby who needed to be fed for an hour and a half out of every three.  All the sudden the goal of 'getting the children in bed' was almost insurmountable and the idea of fitting family scripture study and prayer into the routine again was far from our minds.  I did not go to church for several weeks as I healed physically and then as I kept our tiny little one away from the norovirus that was circulating like mad around the halls of our church.   

RSV struck next, and Timothy ended up in the hospital for five painful nights.  I had no sustaining power left and I crashed emotionally.  I had not been to church, had not been reading my scriptures, had not been praying for several weeks and felt the consequences of those choices while I sat in the hospital, again, needing faith.  I was frustrated and angry with the seemingly never ending trials that were being heaped upon me and wondered how we were going to put our lives back together. Again.  All the while gutting out closets and cupboards, recaulking baseboards, packing boxes, rearranging furniture, and scrubbing the house down to its bare bones to get it on the market.

A couple of weeks later I went to church for the first time since Timothy's birth.  "Has anyone seen my scriptures?" I asked as I packed my church bag.  I hadn't seen them for six weeks.  Prayers started seeping their way back into my life (though inconsistent) and I started feeling... better.  A little bit.  Easter came and went and I felt sad that I had not thought much about Christ during that important holiday.  So one night in the week between Easter and Conference Sunday I knelt and poured my heart out to the Lord. 
"This hurts, and this hurts," I explained.  "This is not going well and this is making me frustrated.  I feel angry because of this and ... I'm just a mess.  Please help me get back on my feet."  I wiped my tears and climbed into bed.  

Sunday Afternoon Session - why is that the hardest one to stay awake through?

The following morning my brain hummed along to the tune of Count Your Many Blessings and, as I brushed my teeth, I noticed it.  Having not heard or sung that song in a long, long time, I realized that this must be the answer to the prayer I had cried out the night before. 

So, I did.  I started counting my blessings, and that morning I worked hard to only thank the Lord for the things I was grateful for in my prayer.  And I felt happier almost instantly.  My testimony grew that morning in two ways. 1) I was reminded that the Lord really does hear our prayers.  And he answers them, too.  2) I also developed a testimony of the power of positive thinking and that counting your blessings (along with prayer) can help. 

Another of Kenzie's pics.  Busted.  Now you know we eat oranges on our carpet sometimes.

General Conference came the following weekend.  And my prayer was answered further.  Be obedient.  Be consistent.  And have peace.  

Our circumstances have not changed.  In fact, one could argue that they've gotten worse since selling our house is not going very well... but that peacefulness that comes from living the gospel is coming back into our home and I suppose that's what this life is all about anyway.  Learning to live gracefully and faithfully through these hard years.  These hard years that we call Life.