Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Where can I turn?

This week I've been thinking much about some people very close to me.  Some dear friends, who are going through some very sad or difficult things.  I know they are crying.  I know they are sad, and lonely.  I want to fix it.  I wish so much I could take their pain away.  But I cannot.  I do not have that power.  I know someone who can though.

I believe in Christ.  I can testify that he lives.  He knows us individually.  He feels our pain, and suffers with us.  Though we cannot see him, we can feel his love for us when we pray.  He can heal all wounds, and comfort all who stand in need of comfort.  He is the greatest relief there is, to any trial, or grief, or sadness.  He suffered all pain, and knows every heartache, because he experienced them all during his great atonement for us.  It is only through him that we will find real peace in anything.

I sent some things to my friends in need this week.  A package of things I hope are comforting, white flowers to help uplift and cheer somewhat.  However that just doesn't feel like enough.  It's like a doctor, giving condolences and sympathy to a sick patient, but no prescription or treatment.  I felt I had to pass on what I know of real treatment, real peace and comfort.  The very best comfort I feel I can give, is the message that Jesus Christ loves us.  He is not merely a good feeling, or a theory or nice idea.  He is a real, living, resurrected being, who gives true and lasting comfort and healing.  He will help.  He loves you.  Read his words.  Lose yourself in meaningful prayer.  You will feel that he is there, and you are not alone.    

As I was writing this, I could hear the words to the hymn Where Can I turn for Peace fill my mind.  You can listen to it here.  Below are the lyrics:

Where can I turn for peace?
Where is my solace
When other sources cease to make me whole?
When, with a wounded heart, anger, or malice
I draw myself apart searching my soul?
Where, when my aching grows?
Where, when I languish?
Where, in my need to know?
Where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.
He answers privately.
Reaches my reaching.
In my Gethsemane, Savior, and friend.
Gentle, the peace He finds
For my beseeching.
Constant He is, and kind.
Love without end.  

This song is dear to me.  It could be because I grew up singing it, and that makes it comforting to me.  However I think it's the words that make it so sweet.  I remember one Sunday at church, in which I was particularly sad about something.  It was time for the congregation to sing the closing hymn.  Lost in my thoughts I flipped to the page and started to sing.  My mind was drawn to the lyrics, and the music seemed to fill my heart, and put words to what I was feeling.  I sang the words

Where can I turn for peace? Where, in my need to know? Where can I run? Who, who can understand?

Then I saw the song answer it's lyrics and my inner thoughts and questions, and found I couldn't sing, but only whisper the response, He, only One.    

To my sweet friends during this time, and to anyone else I know who might be concealing a secret pain or trial, please know I love you.  I will not pretend I understand or know what you're going through, but the Savior does, and I'm praying you will feel his everlasting love, that it will fill your heart and carry you through these times of need. Constant He is, and kind. Love without end.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Baby, completely, wrapped up in you

I wish I was good at telling stories, because this is great story, and deserves to be told well.  Sometimes I can describe something well, when I've had time to think, plan, and rewrite a few times.  Right now however I hardly have time to eat, so I'm afraid a quick summary and spellcheck are all the effort I have time for.  fyi, I will occasionally use the acronym "DH" for "dear husband" to simplify a little.   

June 9, 2011
I had a routine OB appointment, at 35 weeks into my pregnancy.  Things looked healthy and normal.  My cervix was dilated to 1", but that's not uncommon at 35-36 weeks along.  My doctor said all that meant is "you probably wont deliver this week". 

Ok.  "Probably." 

I took that with a grain of salt, and a bit of worry, as my husband wasn't due home from his deployment for a little over a week.  I would have rather heard news that I was showing no signs of labor at all.  I didn't want a "your baby probably wont come before your husband does", I wanted a guarantee.  Life offers no such thing. 

I visited a few friends, and complained I was getting a little worried.  I emailed my DH, giving him the details of the appointment.  He responded the way he had been lately, with promises that he'll get home on time.  The promises felt empty to me, and made me feel frustrated.  He's not the type to give empty promises.  I knew he didn't want me to worry, and worrying can actually bring on stress and early labor, but still, I felt I needed to mentally prepare for the possibility I'd be delivering my baby alone.  Promises that that wouldn't happen when I knew it very well could, weren't comforting to me.

Fast forward to about midnight.  The girls were in bed, and I was up re-reading Breaking Dawn.  It was a nice distraction, and I was waiting to video chat with my DH, who said he'd be online around that time.  I heard the ring of the video call, and came to sit at the computer.  We talked a little about my appointment, and he again started reassuring me he'd be there on time.  That brought my concerns a little closer to the surface than I'd hoped, and I started to cry, asking him why he kept promising something he couldn't be sure about.  Deployments are hard on both of us, and I try to make a sincere effort not to cry on the phone or on video chats.  It doesn't make for a positive experience for either of us when that happens.  I try to save the tears for after we hang up.  This time though the pregnancy hormones and all my worry took over.

My DH smiled, and said he really wasn't making promises he couldn't keep.  I looked at him exasperated, wondering why I really had to explain how I can't control when the baby comes any more than he can control when he gets to come home.  He smiled again, and said, "what if I told you if you went into labor right now, I would be there?"

I stopped crying.  Again more smiles on his end, and he told me to come open the front door.  He was standing there holding his laptop, using our own wi-fi signal to chat with me from outside.  His commander let him come home early, and he thought it'd be a nice surprise if he shared that news by showing up at our door.  He was right.

June 10, 2011
The next morning, we discovered Daddy wasn't the only man in the family with surprises and early arrival plans.  I was feeling consistent contractions that weren't letting up.  Due to nesting urges I'd been having that week, my hospital bag was packed and ready, and I had made plans for our girls with friends.  Thanks to some sweet and amazing young women from church, my house was clean and spotless.  If my husband was caught off guard, he didn't show it.  No doubt still feeling the effects of jet lag, he dug through his deployment bags for a few toiletries, and we took off for the hospital. 

June 11, 2011, 1:57 am
Benjamin Scott arrived.  He was 4 1/2 weeks early, but weighed in at 6 lbs 2 oz, a healthy weight considering his premature timing.

We're all very tired and a little shell shocked, but happy to all be together.  Benjamin fits right in like he's always been here.  We love every tiny toe and finger.

Before I knew my husband would be coming home, I did a lot of praying and soul searching.  I did my very best to make peace with the idea that I could be on my own in that delivery room.  When I prayed about it, I felt peaceful, and a reassurance that if that happened, I'd have the strength and help I'd need.  Faith comes before the blessings.  I was grateful to know I could do it, and even more grateful when I found out I wouldn't have to.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sit on the couch, maybe fall asleep on my husband's shoulder,  snuggle my baby, and enjoying being completely wrapped up and surrounded by the people I love most.  Moments like that shouldn't be taken for granted.