Broken

It's been awhile. I haven't wanted to write. It's hard to explain.

A part of me feels so guilty for not moving on or letting go or getting over the grief. I still feel so stuck in denial and in a playback of emotions and feelings. I feel bad for not being a happy person at times that I probably should.

I can be so productive in a day and by that afternoon I'd rather hide away and sleep to push away emotion. Some days I just feel sad and I don't want to change it. Some days I feel guilt. Other days I feel angry. Either way, I feel like I'm trying to run from the feelings but they just keep catching up to me.

Driving down the road, on a Sunday about a week ago while listening to Sounds of Sunday I heard the song I used for part of the words at my dad's funeral. It's all about being broken and the growth that can come from that as a result of the Atonement of Christ.

But see, I've been angry a lot. I've literally pounded on walls, slammed doors, screamed into a pillow, and used MMA workouts to try and dispel that feeling. It still comes back, though not as consistently as it did before. I haven't connected much hope or healing to my dad's death yet.

When I heard that song over the radio, I listened again to those words and thought of Father's Day with my family. I was taken back remembering my family shedding tears over that broken earth used for the burial services. I thought of the sod pieced together but broken and struggling to connect all those pieces.

This is my heart and I know the hearts of my family; broken and struggling to put the pieces back together. Our tears that fell over my dad's grave that day and so many more that have fallen and are to fall, may over time contribute to the healing and connecting of that broken sod. So, while I don't feel the connection yet and I know that it won't ever be as it was before, hopefully there will be healing in time. Hopefully the broken hearts will find a new "normal" and mend the tattered pieces.

Hopefully I can learn to better take part in the healing and enabling powers of the Atonement and Resurrection, remembering they are there.

Denial and Grief

It's been over three weeks since the accident. My dad died in an accident while driving. We don't know why it happened. We are only sure that through the path his truck traveled that he more than likely wasn't conscious through the worst part of it.

A couple days after it happened, three weeks ago, I stopped at the scene on my way home from the accident. That was one of the hardest things I've ever done but I needed to be in the place he was last. Nathan and I sat down on the side of the road and cried together, we picked up some of his coins that were left there, sat in silence, and tried to wrap our minds around what happened.

I haven't driven by that exit since then. I have traveled through Downey where his truck was towed after the accident. I have traveled back and forth through there about six times and his truck was there every time. Most of the time I would stop for a few minutes and just think about my dad, how much he loved his truck, and how the tangled up metal couldn't possibly be his.

Today I drove to Blackfoot after about a week and a half. His truck was gone. It may have been harder to drive past and not see it there. Those things pull me out of denial for awhile, knowing that things will continue to change and life will still move on without him here. A part of me has been stuck back on Sunday, the night before the accident when we were all together as a family, and Monday afternoon when Nathan came home from work to tell me what happened. I haven't moved too far past that week of being together and ending with his funeral.

I know the answers that he is in a better place, he's no longer limited by pain, and he's looking down on us but the pain will still come. It will still sting when I think about life without him still physically here, not able to hear his voice, or hold his hand before I walk out the door, saying goodbye. There will still be nights that the tears fall heavily from my eyes, and days where I watch my mom hurt for her husband to be back holding her again.

Life together on this Earth is a blessed thing. It is a miracle to know all that was created and organized for us to be here together. But, it hurts to know we leave it not together the majority of the time. It is said we are apart only for a short time...yet for us left here it seems to feel much longer.

"Grief, I've learned is really just love. It's all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go."   -Jamie Anderson

Dad

My dad is gone from this Earth. I no longer have his tangible presence. The rest of his presence is hard to feel right now through the pain, the hurt, the anger, the sadness.

Writing is one of the only ways I feel like I can adequately express feelings so they are no longer stuck in my head. I still don't feel like I know how to write about my dad being gone. I still want him to come back.

My mom asked the kids to share some memories for the funeral. These are the ones I felt I could fit into five minutes. There are so many more and so many I wish we could still make. Until more can be made I will strive to remember all I can.

Memories

I put off compiling this until last night. I didn't know how or what to share. On Tuesday driving back here from Logan I prayed silently for a long time that my Heavenly Father would help me remember and recall the memories.

I just remember him being my dad. I remember hearing the story of him sitting watch outside my hospital door to ensure my mother and I were able to rest when finally getting to sleep after surgery to remove a tumor in my spinal column. He would NOT let the nurses come through that door when his girls were trying to rest. They had to go through him first!

I remember him reminding me constantly, "Daddy loves you." His long distance hugs over the phone which I got plenty of being the long distance kid for the last 10 years. Our phone conversations ended with these so very often that he would tell me to take my left hand and put it on my right shoulder, my right hand and put it on my left shoulder and squeeze. "That's daddy giving you a hug."

I remember every time I walked out the door of the house, his chair sits right by that front door, and he would almost always no matter if we hugged already, stick his hand out and grab mine to squeeze before leaving. I remember sitting on his lap, even with his 30 year old daughter, he'd pull me in tight with my head on his shoulder and tell me that he was proud of me, Nathan, and all three of our little ones.

My dad would give anything to anybody but some things were harder for him to part with, like his hat. He didn't let many people handle certain hats but once he had grandkids all his hats became fair game. I know Nathan and Kamden have a number of hats given to them from dad, including a nice brown cowboy hat to Kamden like the one sitting with my dad here today. My mouth hung open a little bit the day my dad handed that hat over to his grandson without hesitation.

I remember him telling me countless times as a teenager in his serious voice, "Don't you roll your eyes at me!" I remember watching the 5-8 minute train video called "Give it Your Best" that I have no idea where he found, every morning before school for months. We sighed every morning he'd pull us into his room, sit us on his bed and push play to that VHS. I think we all expected it to last for a week or so but instead it last for at least a month if not longer! Every morning! We sang "Love is Spoken Here" often in our house, but very begrudgingly, when my dad caught us fighting.

I remember strict curfews, guns being talked about when we went out on dates, and strict questions of approval to an incoming son-in-law. I remember seeing my sleeping babies on his lap, huge bear hugs, and kisses to those babies, and his face light up when they walked in the door. I remember him being scared to hold his brand new grandbabies, worrying about being so very gentle with those hands of his.

I remember his hands. In 2012 on my family blog I wrote about these hands.

"My dad is not a small man, and neither are his hands. Although, he does not have lengthy fingers or hands, they are solid and if you've ever met the man, you have probably met his strong handshake as well. He's not afraid to use those hands for all jobs, rough and tough. However, I know of many times he has used those hands to smooth back some hair from his daughters face or to cradle his grandchildren.

These hands, of my father's have not seen the likes of lotion too many times but we couldn't count how many times they have been covered in grease or dirt. The roughness in his hands tell of many trials, small and great that have been fought head on, while those small smooth spots tell of humility in times that he pulled himself up, always working harder and harder."

My dad taught me to Never give up. When I was thinking of what I felt portrayed the life of my dad, and what he would want me to remember, I thought of one of my favorite songs called, "Broken" by Kenneth Cope.

The song reads:

Broken clouds give rain
Broken soil grows grain
Broken bread feeds man for one more day

Broken storms yield light
The break of day heads night
Broken pride turns blindness into sight

Broken souls that need His mending
Broken hearts an offering
Could it be that God loves broken things..?

Broken chains set free
Broken swords bring peace
Broken walls make friends of you and me

To break the ranks of sin
To break the news of Him
To put on Christ til His name feels broken in

Broken souls in need of mending
Broken hearts an offering
I believe that God loves broken things

But, oh, our broken faith
Our broken promises
Sent love to the cross...

But still that broken flesh
That broken heart of His
Offers us such grace and mercy
Covers us with love undeserving

My broken soul that cries for mending
My broken heart an offering
I'm convinced that God loves broken me...

Praise His name, our God loves broken things.


My dad had plenty of "broken" moments in life. He was broken down and built back up a number of times but he never gave up. He learned to partake of a perfect Atonement from his Savior every day of his life and he used the brokenness to improve. No matter the challenges he didn't give in. He learned to hold strong and keep going.

This is my dad and so much more. He was mine and that is a tender mercy I was blessed with greatly. Thanks daddy. I look forward to the day I will sit on your lap again and feel you squeeze me tight. You always told me, "Daddy loves you."

I love you too.

Sunday Will Come

My thoughts are turned heavenward today.

I've been intensely focused on making plans in our lives right now; trying to make sense of the uncertainties I feel but my thoughts the last few days have kept turning to stories I hear in the lives of others. Right as I am beginning to become frustrated with those uncertainties the Lord has reminded me of a very real struggle in the life of another. He's trying to soften the heart of mine that sometimes bears stony ground.

I'm reminded lately of friends and family with much more uncertainty in jobs or moving, those dealing with a very real struggle of depression and anxiety, some living with struggles and the fear of terminal cancer, family fighting a valiant, but tiring fight against cystic fibrosis,  parents mourning the loss of a child, strangers and those I know battling infertility and more. The struggles in this life can be so very real and raw.

I've also seen great miracles  and cause for celebration happen in the lives of some I know closely, not so closely, and not at all. The miracle of adoption for a sweet family waiting many years, the birth of precious new babes into the world, vacation for some who haven't experienced one in years, and solutions to health problems coming in the lives of others.

I've wanted to envelop each and every person, struggling or celebrating, in a hope to send them one more bit of hope and love in their journey. I look at the two, those struggling and those celebrating, and don't know why some have cause to mourn or endure pain at the moment while others have cause to celebrate, but one thought comes to mind with Easter last weekend  and the words of the prophet and apostles of my church spoken in a worldwide General Conference. We each have a Savior, He is real and he is involved in the daily struggles and celebrations we experience. Each name is written on his heart, in his blood, and on the palms of his hands. He knows our struggles and our joys. He knows the each twist and turn on the path we are called to walk. He knows the way because he is the way.

I find the joining together of hearts a miracle. Sometimes hearts are joined together more deeply through struggle and sometimes through joy, but I believe the Lord joins our hearts together in an effort to show us a glimpse into the very real and personal love he feels for us.

He is forever our advocate with the Father, in joy or pain. He is fighting your cause. He is walking by your side and at times carrying you in arms that will never fail you. Sunday will come.

Uncertain Adventures

We are blessed to have a lot of adventure in our life right now...uncertain adventure but adventure nonetheless.

You know I think that's what life is though...one uncertain adventure! One beautiful, uncertain adventure!

We found out in January that we are adding another little one to the Benson bunch! We will be a family of five! I'm not planning on it but I hope I can stay caught up to three little ones come September!

We were in Florida when we found out, where we were for about four months to see Nathan's hard work for the last four year be shot into space! The NASA MMS Spacecraft that Nathan has worked on launched on March 12th and he was able to be finish work on it and see it launch into space to fulfill it's mission!

We are back in Maryland for just a few weeks, after which his contract will end. The plan was to have a job lined up in Utah already and be heading off onto a much more certain adventure. However, that isn't our reality. We have no job lined up and we are living on a prayer that Heavenly Father will help us find our way that aligns with his plan in this uncertain adventure of life!

I've spent a lot of time being frustrated that my plans have not come to fruition. I've had a lot of hopes for our new journey that haven't happened or I know now aren't going to happen. There has been some disappointment felt, tears cried, and learning to let go. The journey isn't happening how I planned for it. I'm not getting exactly what I want. There are lots of things I want that I see others have. I want my own beautiful home, land to have a little farm on, for my husband and I to be done with school, and some other things. I've spent time playing the game of comparison and growing disappointment, robbing myself of the joy in the trenches. "Comparison is the thief of joy" but it's just not worth it. Joy does not come in gaining what others have. "Joy is not in things, it is in us!"

There is joy to be found in the trenches of this uncertain adventure. My journey is my own and it's time to find joy in that journey. I will work towards my goals and dreams on the path that Heavenly Father places in front of me. There will be joy and I am meant to experience that if I let myself.

I believe our natural state is joy! Heavenly Father wants us to be happy. That doesn't mean it's always going to be right in front of us. Sometimes we will have to look for it to find it but there is joy even in the darkest of days.

Find joy in the trenches.

Motherhood is Softening my Heart

You know I used to be a crier. Emotions often brought tears to the surface but these days I'm not really a crier. I was wondering today why that is and then I had the perfect day to evaluate those thoughts.

With my husband gone to Florida for work I am manning the children by myself. (My props, love, and hugs go out to those single mothers, military wives, and women who do this much more regularly than I do...you are strong...keep going...I admire you!) It was a particularly difficult day with my 3 year old boy, who is very much my spirited child. And, this evening when I found myself in the Target parking lot for 30 minutes trying to coax him into his car seat midst screaming, tears, and thrashing I asked myself why it was I wasn't breaking down into tears at this point. A part of me wished I could, wished I would and that it would release some of the emotions and frustration I was feeling but it would have been forced if I had.

I wondered if I had become harder through the last few years of my life. With every year of life comes more experience. Had motherhood hardened me a little? Had I let life harden me? And, I'm sure in some way I have but in the same way I realize that tears aren't required to show softness, tenderness, and kindness. In the same way that you can cry and still be strong I believe you don't have to cry to be soft and tender in life.

Motherhood has strengthened me but most often that is the result of being broken down first. I have wondered many times in the past 3 years why motherhood doesn't seem to be the uplifting, filling activity I always thought it would be before I had kids. (I still testify that motherhood is rewarding, joyful, and fulfilling. It is divine and blessed. But, it is also draining and often times feels like defeat.) Then my friend said something the other day that struck a cord in me. Talking about this same thing I mention above she said, "...but, motherhood isn't necessarily meant to fill us up. It is meant to fill our kids up."

I realized then that you know maybe I am doing something right. Maybe and hopefully feeling depleted in the area of motherhood at the end of the day means that I spent my time lifting up my children. I believe in taking time for yourself to fill your own cup so that you can come back a more patient, better person in all aspects of life but I also think that motherhood is a wild ride and sometimes no matter how great that personal time is you can once again be depleted as a mother, in what feels like an instant.

And then today when I was reading this post by Stephanie Nielsen of NieNie Dialogues I was reminded of my strength as a mother and reminded of one of my favorite talks on motherhood where Elder Jeffrey R. Holland says:

"Mothers, cherish that role that is so uniquely yours and for which heaven itself sends angels to watch over you and your little ones. 

Yours is the work of salvation, and therefore you will be

 magnified, compensated, made more than you are, better than you are, 

and better than you have ever been. You are doing terrifically well. 

The very fact that you have been given such a responsibility is 

everlasting evidence of the trust your Father in Heaven has in you. 

He is blessing you and He will bless you, even—no, especially—when your days

 and your nights may be the most challenging. Rely on Him. Rely on Him heavily. Rely on Him forever. And “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope.”

I am reminded of the great work I am doing. Yes, it can be depleting. It can be challenging. But, I am being strengthened, uplifted, and softened every day through this journey as a mother. My Father in Heaven is behind me 100 percent. He is rooting for me and he is aiding me on my journey.

Leaning on the Lord in Motherhood

Motherhood is on my mind this morning in relation to this scripture!

The thought above comes from what has always been one of my favorite scriptures. I have a habit of trying to lean on my own understanding sometimes and it never works out quite right when I do!

Yesterday was quite the day at our house! It was full of lots of messes, spaghetti everywhere, bread crumbs, nibbled carrot bits everywhere, torn books, wet sheets, crying kids, and some definite disagreements between mom and children. There were so many times I would sit down to finally take a breather before I went crazy and then something else would happen ro littles ones would be knocking on my door or taking over my relaxing, hot bath as their own.

For most of my day yesterday I leaned on my own understanding, frustrated that what I was doing all day, every day didn't seem so important. But, after the day was more than half over I said a little prayer and realized how much the Lord cares for me and what I am doing.

I asked my husband the other day why as a mother sometimes I feel that I hear the Lord less than I did at other times in my life. It seems terrible to say or think that but it is true for me most of the time. It seems it's hard to hear him over the screaming children and the stress of another thing to be done even though I feel I am doing his work.

But, I was reminded yesterday that even when I might not be hearing him because there are a million other things going on he is there. The thing is do we trust in him and remain faithful even on those days we feel we don't hear him over the screaming children, beeping timer, stress of bread crumbs and wet sheets?



Even though I am doing the divine work of motherhood that doesn't mean the Lord's work is always easy. Some moments it's exhausting and it includes broken hearts, sacrifice, and tears. But other moments it includes restoration, complete comfort, and more tear, but of joy. It is the daily consistent work whether exhausting or restoring that brings us to him as we do his work.

Keep going! Motherhood is hard and it's not always very glamorous. It's sacrifice and exhausting but it's also restoring, divine, and incredibly joyful. Keep going! There is joy to be found in those trenches!

Consistency: Turn Your Test into Your Testimony

I've always been my worst critic. Most of us are, right? And, I've always worried about what other people thought of me. If someone disproved of something I did it would affect me for days. Sometimes it still does.

Here's the thing. Some of us are both with an inherent sensitivity and it can be both a blessing at times and other times it can be incredibly hard to reason through. Naturally, I am an introvert so my thoughts, which are many, wander through my head and most often they stay there. Along with that I worry often about others as well and how they are doing in this journey called life. Some days it's like one big boatload of worry.

Many of you know I struggled with postpartum depression after having both of my babies. I was supposed to be incredibly happy and beaming with love but inside I was torn apart, feeling alone, and defeated. I did not feel adequate and it was a challenge to get through the day to day activities as a mother, let alone anything else. Emotion (good and bad) swirled within my head and my heart and it seemed to rest their permanently, sometimes feeling as if I was unable to function and paralyzed to act.

I started a journey into improving my health last year, both mentally and physically. I started reading my scriptures more regularly and personal development daily as well. I relied on my Savior to pull me through and to help me to work on myself. Regular exercise and good nutrition became a part of my daily habits. I didn't feel better overnight. It took time and hard work. It took consistency compounded over time but within time I was feeling much more alive. I am grateful for the courage, understanding, and empathy I gained from this experience.

So, one would think that depression would be a thing of the past for me. I have to tell you, and anyone else who has experienced depression can as well, that some days I find myself feeling those intense emotions again or complete numbness. And, I know it comes on both good days and bad days sometimes. I'm not sure the reasons and this post isn't about those. It's about more than that. It's about the journey.

It's easy to go through life thinking that once we move past one hurdle it will forever be in our past. This isn't true of anything. I know this to be true with both my depression and with my obsession over food and my body I have had in the past. I've never dealt with addictions of alcohol, drugs, or other things but I know it is true for those things as well. Days will come that it seems harder to pull yourself from that life of depression or addiction or obsession no matter who you are. The true test is in how we combat that and deal with it. Do we take action to move ourselves forward or do we wallow? Are we consistent with the actions that we know keep us from giving in to that old self?

Life is about consistency for me. Some things I'm still really struggling to find consistency with...even some of my strengths but we can't gain a testimony without the test. That testimony comes through consistent, daily effort to better ourselves...to do the things that are easy to do but also easy not to do. Power comes through action and that is the hardest thing to do sometimes! But, do we want to look back realizing we let things slip right through our grasp? NO! We work for the good things...we hold on so tight that blisters form because we know in the end it will be worth it. In the end we will look back and realize that when it got tough and it was really easy to give up and give in, we didn't. Instead we fought the good fight, we finished the course, we kept the faith!

My Journey to Finding Joy in the Trenches

In October of last year I decided to make a change. I was really struggling. I was unhappy, tired all the time, and still struggling with depression after having my little Kaliana Brooklyn. I needed something to work towards. I LOVE being a mother but I needed something for me. At first mention I thought I was being selfish. However, I realized quickly that taking care of myself would seriously change the whole dynamic of our home and my efforts in motherhood.

I started living a new healthy lifestyle that consisted of good nutrition and regular exercise. It became my outlet of sorts and a way to be proud of myself. I was accomplishing something great which I wasn't sure I could do. I was scared I would fall flat on my face but honestly, I'm pretty sure I had already fallen flat on my face so what could it hurt?

I lost about 20 lbs. and around 18 inches overall in the span of about 4-5 months by working out 25-30 minutes a day, drinking Shakeology, and eating clean so I decided to start running online fitness challenge groups. These are what helped me stay on track and keep working towards my goal even when it got hard. I was accountable and I had support from others working towards similar goals. I started Fitness Empowered on Facebook and shortly after on Instagram to help inspire others to realize their own potential and to find a place of empowerment. I truly found that there could be joy, even when we were deep in the trenches of a long, hard day.

Finding joy in those trenches inspired me to share even more. Fitness was a huge part of finding my joy but it also came through my faith, my family, and my divine calling in life as a mother. I wanted to share it all and well, that brought me to this spot. I worked on the idea of a blog for a couple months until this little blog of mine, Finding Joy in the Trenches, came to fruition. This is my place to share it all and help inspire others to start finding joy in their own trenches.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to share with so many through blogging, Facebook, and Instagram. Social Media can be a tool used for great good! So, in an effort to keep everything consistent all across the board Fitness Empowered on both Facebook and Instagram will now become part of this journey to Finding Joy in the Trenches. I founded Team Fitness Empowered in an effort to help others on their own journey to better health and there will be no changes to that team. It will remain that way and if you want to learn more about my team and how you can join it as a customer or a coach please comment or email me at bensshar@gmail.com.

I have found that the most important callings in my life are also those that require sometimes a great deal of time spent in the trenches and they are not separate in my life but they all run together and without one I would not be the same person. Please join me in the journey to Finding Joy in the Trenches of Faith, Family, Fitness, and Motherhood.

You can find me on Facebook at:

https://www.facebook.com/joyinthetrenches?ref_type=bookmark

I am also on Instagram at:

 http://instagram.com/joyinthetrenches

I honestly pour my heart and soul into this and I would feel honored to have you be a part of it! Please come follow me and share your stories with me as well at bensshar@gmail.com. I am truly inspired by all of your stories and I would love to share them with others alike.

Carry on. Find joy in the trenches!

A Father's Day Lesson

When most people meet my little guy for the first time one of their first questions is, "Is he always like this?" referring to his energy level. My response is always the same, "Yep!"

Going to church is an interesting experience for us each week. You see, Kamden LOVES nursery but Sacrament meeting isn't so easy. We usually end up taking him out of Sacrament at least twice a meeting (some days I wonder why we even try to go in the chapel in the first place) and putting him in time out to talk to him about reverence and respect. This usually involves screaming, tears, and unfortunately, hitting on his part. On our part it often involves, lots of prayer and pleading for patience, waiting, frustration, and yes, often times tears. 

Kamden is a character all on his own, tough as nails, full of an exuberant amount of energy, a stubborn will of his own, and a really hard negotiator. Before becoming a mother I used to think that it just took some good stern talking to and showing him there was no negotiation; but now I am a mother to Kamden and my life is full of trying to negotiate, stern talking to, and absolutely no deal between the two of us. 

Sacrament meeting happened this way today...on Father's Day. He was out of the chapel in time out more than he wasn't and Neither Nathan, Kamden, or myself made it out of Sacrament meeting today without tears. Thank Heavens he is in love with nursery and we have AMAZING nursery leaders. We made it through the next two hours of church until it was time to pick up Kamden from nursery. Now, picking Kamden up from nursery is like trying to pry an angry badger out of his burrow (in the words of his father). 

Today, I just decided to go straight into the nursery room instead of picking him up at the gate that is usually set up, and the second he saw me he ran. He hid in the cupboard (his burrow) with the car he was not going to give up. Without ease I pried him from his burrow. The problem is now I have to pry the car away. There was flailing and no negotiation happening here. I kneel on the ground ( in complete frustration and embarrassment with my skills as a mother) as he slumps down to the floor and refuses to let me pick him up. There was no holding back the tears, and again they came, for about the third time in the past 3 hours. 

Finally, tears coming from my eyes gave him the reasoning needed to let me pick him up. I walk out with his sweaty body in my arms and make it to his dad just in time for him to throw another fit. To give you an idea of how hard he runs each day during Nursery I pick him up with his hair completely soaked each week as if I just pulled him from the swimming pool. Another sister in the ward asked me as I walked his sweaty body out of the nursery room if they were running a sweat shop in there. "He looks like he just ran a marathon!" she said to which I replied, "He runs a marathon every day!" He never stops and he loves to run.

By the time we got home and got him in the house we finally put him straight to bed after trying and failing once again to communicate with that stubborn 2 year old. With him in bed, both Nathan and myself, end up slumping down on the couch, once again in tears. As we talk, the patient, understanding husband and father of this household pulls me up and tells me to come with him. We went into our bedroom where that little boy was laying and laid our tired bodies next to his. While laying there and trying to understand how to get through to this little guy I heard a voice in my head saying, "Just love him." 

My sweet husband, the father of that sweet boy, taught me a valuable lesson today. At the point which I felt all hope was lost and I was praying for a divine answer I got the one I wasn't expecting, a simple, "love him."  How I am grateful for that husband of mine and his wisdom.

Happy Father's Day to you, Nathan. Thank you for constantly being an answer to my prayers.

I had no doubt in my mind when marrying that man that he would be a one of a kind father, one I would be proud to raise children with and he proved that to me again today. He made it possible for me to hear the whispering of the Spirit answering my question with the words of my Father in Heaven and the Heavenly Father of that little boy to do just what a parent is supposed to do.

It won't be easy but we will keep taking that little boy to church each week and no matter how hard it is we will love him. I have no doubt there will be more tears and frustration and I'm sure I have a lot to learn in how to be a parent but I'm trying, we're trying. And, no matter how much I want that easy answer I have a feeling that deep down I know that's not what is meant to be. We love him regardless.

Fighting our Silent Battles

As a mother I can't tell you how many times I've woken up in the middle of the night to the cries of one of my babies and I can't find any specific reason why they are crying but it is more than aware through their cries that they are in some kind of pain, whether it be physical, mental, or emotional. Part of the unspoken job of a mother is to comfort our children, to ease their pain and when we can't do that  we feel a pain (I would venture to say at times) as intense as our dear child's.

As my companion and I were Visiting Teaching (a calling to minister to individual sisters in my church) a sister in my ward we learned that her daughter in law had been diagnosed with brain cancer, which was found to be inoperable. While discussing her thoughts and feelings she told us of how it was much more difficult to see her children go through the struggles of life and learn those lessons than it was to experience them herself.

We spoke of seeking the comfort and aid of the Lord in our times of struggle. We spoke of the Lord's hand reaching for ours always and how we also must reach in order to receive the help he so eagerly wants to provide us with.

The most challenging battles we fight in life are fought in silence. Those around us can not know of our pain. These silent battles, whether they are those of a child crying out in the middle of the night, or those of the child's mother, aching for the ability to ease the pain of that innocent child in her arms, are difficult but essential. In The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupery it says, "It's only with the heart that one can see rightly. What's essential is invisible to the eye."

It is true in our lives that the lessons to be learned in life are only seen with the heart. They are invisible to the eye and therefore the silent struggle used to lead us there can only be seen and experienced in the throes of the heart. It is also true that the only healing balm adequate for these struggles comes through our Savior, Jesus Christ who took those silent battles upon himself one by one.

Broken, Tired, but Grateful

Shall we be completely honest here?

Okay, good! I'm glad we all decided on a resounding YES!

I'm writing this after my 2 year old had a huge meltdown because I took the scissors away from him. I know, I know I'm about the meanest mom alive and if you had any doubt just ask Kamden; he has first had experience!

He was hiding in my room moments earlier and if you live in our house you know that means he's taking care of some business. When he was ready to come out he quietly exclaims, "Mamma, I pooped again."

I reply, "Okay, Kamden let's lay down and change your diaper. The thing is I didn't realize until now his hands were behind his back. He can't keep his hands back there while trying to lay down so out they come and with them a pink pair of scissors, my sewing scissors. I asked him nicely, "Kamden, are you supposed to be playing with scissors?"

"No, mom." says Kamden.

I reply, "Okay, give them to mommy, please" while I reach forward to take them out of his hands. I catch them just before he tries to flail them all over the place in protest!

That was about the time I knew it was all downhill. There was no chance a diaper change would happen anymore, not with this huge meltdown in sight. I decided to play the "ignore him and it will get better" card but that insistent 2 year old had other plans. He grabs the pillows closest to him and starts chucking them in my general direction. "Okay, I can deal with pillows", I think to myself, "Bring it on, little guy...give it your best shot!"

And, it was like he could read my mind, so in that moment I was not looking he honored that challenge I extended to him and, BOOM, right on the cheek is where the edge of my full water bottle landed after it was hurled through the air by that (too smart for his own good) 2 year old of mine (right now I'm asking myself if I'm supposed to claim him as mine...). I have to remind myself that he has the most redeeming qualities!

It was like he was aiming with exact measurements of how he could produce the most sting on contact and let me tell you, he was pretty darn precise! At first, it was the maddened ("Oh, you didn't just do that...") mamma reaction but fortunately for Kamden the worst of the sting came two seconds later and then it hit me with a ton of bricks. That was my breaking point and I could no longer be mad, because instead I was broken.

All the thoughts of my day...all the thoughts of my week...of self doubt...of frustration...hit me...like a TON of bricks and I crumbled. That broken, imperfect mamma crumbled into a million pieces after she locked her bedroom door and curled up in the corner. Yes, the corner...it was the best option when the bed was full of clothes I had just spent an hour folding.

You know that motherhood thing...sometimes it's exhausting.

Today, I'm a broken, tired mamma and you know that can sound incredibly depressing in a way. Broken and tired aren't exactly encouraging words.

BUT, if I've learned only a few things in my life, it's that broken and tired usually mean your learning something. You are growing. You are being molded...shaped...into something more. I have no idea who that person is yet. I'd like to know a lot of days, but I guess not knowing quite where that journey may lead is part of the refining process, right? At least, I'm hoping there is an incredibly good reason for it.

So, I might be broken and tired, yes, there is no doubt, but at least if I'm going to be broken and tired I can do it while performing the most demanding, yet, most rewarding job I have ever embarked on. At least, I have the opportunity to do that job of grueling, hard work every day of my life. And, honestly (because we all decided on honesty, right) at least I have that to be grateful for!