Tuesday, July 29, 2014

The Trail

You're hiking up a beautiful mountain with picturesque views!  You have enough water and supplies, feeling as if you could hike for days.  You take a gorgeous shot that you never thought you'd have the opportunity to get in a lifetime, but still your heart yearns for just one more magnificent photo.  You know you have enough energy to accomplish this goal and are excited to race to the very top... when the ground underneath you begins to crumble and you realize that another shot may no longer be an option.

Your first feelings are ones of anger and resentment as others come bounding down the mountain, some with more than one awesome picture snapped and not a bead of sweat or sign of tiredness. It's then that you look down at your shaky, scratched up legs and begin to feel shame, embarrassment, and weakness that you may be the reason for your unsuccessful attempt at this shop.  Maybe they are stronger, more skilled or more deserving.  Finally, overcome with sadness, fatigue, and depression you just sit down on the side of the trail unable to move forward, yet unwilling to go back.

However, it's at this exact moment of bitterness and disparity that you hear the sweet sound of birds in the trees.  You can now smell the soft scent of flowers and trees floating around you, almost unnoticed, and can feel the gentle breeze bringing you cooling peace and comfort you hadn't anticipated you'd find.

This is where I now find myself, on my hike up the mountain of motherhood.  I have already been blessed with one gorgeous shot, for which I am more grateful than I can say, but my heart still longs for just one more.  Sometimes it feels just beyond my reach, right around the next bend of my path.  However, after yet another failed procedure this weekend my ground has crumbled beneath my once strong feet and now here I sit on this never-ending trail!  I have scrapes, bruises, and muscles so sore I often wonder if I can stand, much less walk.  I have felt anger, shame, and sadness, but for now I am at a rest... surviving solely on the Living Waters of my Savior and his peace.

I do not know how my journey will end and I hate hearing the minutes tick by, as I sit on this trail of trial and tears, but here I sit... waiting with my eyes searching for my Shepherd to lead me on!

Friday, July 18, 2014

In My Pretty Garden

So, the same woman who couldn't keep a plant alive to save her life is now a gardener!  It all started with a Relief Society activity that I wasn't even sure I would even attend.  Lots had been going on and I almost didn't go.  However, the sweet spirit that I felt was just what my tired heart needed and the bonus was getting to try my hand at planting and growing.  I took my cute little tub and proceeded to plant basil, chives, and cilantro.  I carefully planted each seed, probably asking a million questions as I did, and covered them with care.  I knew there was a good chance that I would be sending these little seeds to their death soon, but decided to be hopeful nonetheless.

I carefully watered my little herb garden daily, even usually an old medicine dropper that I used on Chandani as a baby.  Watering my little garden became a daily ritual and I began to just do it without thinking.  Then one day I saw my first spouts and my heart was filled with pride over my accomplishment.  It might sound silly, but I had never seen anything grow from a seed, and at a might hand, so I was beyond elated at this little miracle I had performed.

I continued to water it daily and watch it bloom and grow with beaming pride.  Then, Chandani proceeded to bring home two little corn plants that they had grown in school.  She loved to help water my little garden and was ecstatic to add her little plants to the mix.  Before long her corn plants had outgrown their small little plastic cup and it was time to try moving part of our little garden outside,  this thought was scary!  I knew how carefully I had cared for these little plants in the safety of my kitchen window, but now I would be introducing our little corn plants to the heat, bugs, and other outside extremities.  However, I knew I would continue to love and care for it all the more so we made the leap and planted it outside with fingers crossed.

Skip ahead a month or two and we now have our beloved corn plants (which are almost as tall as Chandani), a tangerine tree, pineapple sage, two types of thyme, red and yellow bell peppers, our little herb garden still thriving, and two different types of hot peppers all growing and flourishing... not to mention a beautiful bush that I cloned from a cutting that my mother-in-law also gave along with a few of those other plants we're growing.  I  have developed such a love and tending to my little helpless plants and giving them what they need, as I water them and fertilize them regularly.

However, gardening has become more than a cherished past-time for me in the past few weeks.  It has become a sort of therapeutic metaphor for my life right now.   I recently went to our beloved fertility doctors to prepare to try again, only to come away with a new, crippling diagnosis of Adenomyosis.  Basically stated it is similar to Endometriosis and might causing my own "soil" to not be conducive for "growing" anymore :-(  The thought caused me so much pain that I truly didn't think I could handle this news, but the master gardener had prepared me for this blow without my even knowing it.  He had given me an abundance of the spirit in the weeks and days leading up to that appointment.  The Savior had touched my heart just seconds before the doctor walked in, as I bowed my head and began praying a prayer that I had not planned to pray.  He knew that he could not take a way the pain and sadness I would feel upon learning this terrible news, but he made sure to stand ready to comfort me when that time came.

Now, as I tend to my little fledging plants, I have a new perspective, with open eyes and an open heart.  I cannot protect them from the burning sun, the ripping winds, or the birds and insects that pick and tear as their leaves.  However, I can stand ever ready with my watering can to comfort them with life-giving water that can refresh and revive.  I do not know what lies in store for me or if my most earnest prayer will be answered or not, for I have not been granted such personal revelation, but what I do know is that my Savior is aware of me.  So I will continue on and be as hopeful as I was that first night that I planted my first seeds and try to be a patient gardener with my trust firmly planted in the Master Gardener!