Beautiful Savior

Over the last few weeks, I have not written much, either privately or here on the blog.  I've been a little drained by the demands of daily life combined with the natural effects of the first trimester of pregnancy, and had to let a few things go by the wayside.  As Nate so patiently put it, living with a pregnant mama (at least this pregnant mama!) in the first trimester is a lot like bachelor life again - everything tends to be put on a "do it only as it needs doing" schedule, rather than the more ordered and routine manner in which we try to accomplish life usually.  I am grateful that he is so supportive and loving.

Although I have not written much, my mind and heart have been full.  I have come up again against the conflict between the desire to honestly share my heart and experiences as they flow out of me, and the desire to protect against misunderstanding, judgement, and assumption.  But why write at all, unless I write honestly?  Why write at all, unless I write about what is important to me and weighing upon my heart?  So I have waited out the conflict to write.

Much on my mind has been my first baby, my first pregnancy.  Not Eden, but the first.  You see, for three years now, I have been pregnant at this time of the year.  This year, I am almost out of the first trimester.  Last year, I was two months away from giving birth to Eden.  The year before that, 2010, I was in my second trimester, barely recovering from horrible morning sickness, not knowing that in about two weeks I would deliver my tiny, precious, lifeless firstborn.

Someone asked me, once, after I had briefly shared that experience, if it was still hard to talk about, if it still hurt.  I don't really remember what I answered at that time.  I would say that it is not hard to talk about - it has never been hard to talk about.  In fact, it was (and is) harder to not talk about it.  Of course, as time passes and life goes on, it is not so present, so pressing, so immediate all the time.  But yes, when the moment is right - it does still hurt.  A mother's heart holds all her children, and longs for them when they are not with her, even with understanding and peace at their absence.

I will share, over the next few posts, perhaps, that experience.  It has touched and changed and broken and filled me more than any other one event in my life.  I do not share it lightly, and know that there will be those who do not understand or who maybe don't want to read it.  That's ok.  Take it or leave it, as you please.

But today, sitting on our somewhat smelly old couch, Nate and Eden and I just relaxed after church and watched an old DVD from his mission, entitled "Fisher's of Men." It contains quotes from conference talks by prophets and apostles, testifying of Jesus Christ and his mission, over a background of videos of His life and beautiful instrumental music.  I heard it for the first time on my mission, and have always been so touched by it, but today I found the tears just rolling down my cheeks.  I thought of my childhood and youth and the beauty and peace and blessing of growing up in the gospel.  The way I never doubted the truth of the Savior, always knew my Heavenly Father loved me, found answers and solutions and blessings for all my small and childish concerns.  I was truly encircled in his love.  Then, gradually, how my life encountered more and more of the more serious difficulties, trials, and disappointments that are natural to this fallen life.  I never used to cry when I felt the Spirit - I just felt peaceful and filled with joy.  I think that is my natural tendency, but I know that now I cry because I know my need, I know my brokenness.  I know that life is not about fairness, and there is no guarantee of the perfect ending in this life no matter what we do.  My heart has been shattered in ways that I never could have dreamed of, and I'm still at the beginning(ish) part of my life! And yet...

And yet, I cry because I feel His light streaming in through the cracks.  I cry because I am so humbled, so grateful, that He stops to reach me, where I am.  I cry because I long for the day when all the wrong shall be made right, and all promises fulfilled.  I cry because I see my brother, enfolded again in the longing, loving bosom of our family. I cry because I see, in my minds eye, that tiny little baby in my arms, in white, never again to depart.

Beautiful Savior!

Lord of the Nations! 

Son of God and son of man!

Thee will I honor, praise and give glory!

Give Glory evermore!

Evermore!