Tag: Pieces of Me

Tidbits and concepts that changed my life, chipped away some of my rough spots, and made me who I am today. The category is called Pieces of Me because of a poem I wrote in high school about how we find pieces of ourselves along our life journey.

A Day in the Life, Educational, Life Lessons

Today’s Adventure Down a Rabbit Hole

Keira
close up of rabbit on field
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

So, there I was, minding my own business (aka cleaning the front room while my children are watching educational television -*cough,* Octonauts, *Cough*), and I overhear that the whale has a sunburn.

So, my curious brain decides to google if whales really can get sunburned.

Turns out they can.

Apparently they can get tanned, too! (Source)

But that’s not all!

black hippopotamus laying on ground during daytime
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Hippos don’t get sunburned because they secrete a red sticky substance that not only refracts the sun, it keeps bugs away. Beauty companies are studying hippos in order to mimic it in makeup. (Side note: when telling all of this fascinating info to my sister, she informed me that The Lion Guard lied! One of their episodes talks about hippos getting burned. Is that not the epitome of mom-to-modern-preschoolers life? Haha, not only are we discussing random facts we learned in one kid show, we are cross-examining it with another kid show. … Here’s where you ask us how much we let our kids watch and we tell you to mind your own kids, thank you very much).

Anyway, you should also know that domesticated pigs can get sunburned and heat stroke, but wild pigs don’t. The fur on a wild pig has been bred out of our domesticated breeds.

But wait, there’s more.

Elephants and rhinos can get burned. That’s why they hang out in the mud.

agriculture cows curious pasture
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

So, hippos nope, but elephants and rhinos, yes. (source)

And cows and newly-shorn-sheep can get burned, too! I asked my mom (dairyman’s daughter) if that was true and she said yes, and she has seen it personally. Lighter-colored cows turn pink when they’re sunburned! I know you were just dying to learn that.

Apparently, researchers are discovering the more plants with chlorophyll an animal eats, the more likely they are to burn (no good source but enough you can see a connection. my best one has since been taken down. Google it, though). But also some research in humans who take chlorophyll supplements have started to emerge). I guess I can see it… chlorophyll collects sun rays. Who knew the plants were getting revenge, amiright?

But that’s not all! Did you know that darker skinned people have a harder time converting sunlight into vitamin D (source)!?! This one kinda blows my mind because this pale-skinned northerner is not so great at having enough vitamin D whenever they take my labs. In fact, I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, so it’s kind of a big deal for me to get enough sunlight. But I checked other sources, and they all agree. The lighter the skin, the better the ability to convert sunlight into vitamin D. So, the ancestors that used to live near the equator had darker skin so they would not burn as easily, but they also get more sunlight, making that the necessity. And the ancestors that lived to the north were paler because they needed to absorb and convert the sun rays into vitamin D because the sun wasn’t as available to them. Bodies are awesome.

I don’t know if I really needed to learn all of that, but it’s fascinating, isn’t it? And now you know all that useless information, too! You are so much better informed, now! You’re welcome.

And, see? Octonauts are educational!

And my floor was clean for a whole 2 seconds while they were distracted, so… totally worth it.

Keira at searchforseven.com
Life Lessons, Spiritual

Integrity

Keira

I was flipping through my Personal Progress book on Sunday, and a particular “experience” (Integrity #3) really stuck out to me. I don’t know why, exactly. Usually, I think, “yeah, that one should be easy enough right now.” or “um, I should probably work on that one.” or something to that effect. But they don’t usually hit a chord. This one did. So I’ve been working on it this morning. Instead of writing it down in my journal, the thought came to me that I should put it on the blog. It says share your experience, so I guess this is a good way to share it.

The funny thing is, when the instructions said to think about a time that I showed integrity and it was not easy or popular, a story instantly came to mind. An incident that was close to 20 years ago. I don’t know what recalled that particular instant, but it hasn’t left me since.

I was in 8th grade. We had this really boring text book in my Leadership class. The whole class hated it. One day, the teacher stepped out of the room, probably to go make copies or something. The entire class hid their textbooks. The teacher was pretty flabbergasted when she came back in. I don’t know what made her do it, but she looked right at me and said, “Keira, where are the books.” Althought I didn’t stand up and tell the kids no (they were reaaaallllly boring books), I couldn’t tell a  bold-face lie. So I caved and told her where they were. I thought for sure, the whole class would be mad at me, but actually no one was. Maybe because they knew I couldn’t like. I don’t know. But we didn’t have to use those books again. And the class didn’t really care. I don’t know why it’s so ingrained into my memory, but it is. I don’t remember a single other thing from that class, but I remember the time I didn’t lie.

Integrity Scrabble Brick

It’s no surprise that the first example the Young Women Personal Progress book gives is that of the Savior. Even when He realized exactly how hard it was to comply with the atonement, He did it. He suffered for our sins. If He hadn’t had integrity, there would be no plan.

Joseph showed integrity with Potiphar’s wife. To me, that’s not just showing integrity in the obvious way. Not committing adultery is a definite  commandment. But honoring the wishes of an employer and getting out of a potentially bad situation (as well as making a bad situation good without complaint) are also ways to show integrity.

Esther is one of my favorite examples of integrity. I don’t know if I’d have the courage to put my life on the line to stand up for others. I mean, I guess you’d just have to do it. I like that she fasts and prays before she does what she does. In this kind of situation, putting God at the central part of the plan, remembering that all things are possible through him, is the real example of integrity in Esther’s story.

Job never denied the Lord, when times got hard. I think that everyone has those moments when they wonder, with everything going on in their lives, if God loves them, if He really exists, and if He can help. But at the end of it, if you’ve kept the faith, kept believing, then you can show integrity, too. Just like Job.

Daniel didn’t stop praying. God’s commandments are greater than man’s.

Shadrach Meshach and Abednego were willing to die for their faith, but to me the true sign of integrity is something I heard in a conference talk once. I’ve never been able to find it since. In the talk the speaker said once that Shadrach Meshach and Abednego were great examples of the “But If Not” principle. Not only do they stand up for their beliefs, knowing that Christ CAN save them, they know that doesn’t mean Christ WILL save them. The true act of faith, and integrity, is remembering that God’s ways are better than our own plans. They know that they can be saved, but if they are not saved, they know that they will be with their Savior. “But if Not.” Integrity is trusting God. Submitting to His will.

Hyrum showed integrity for delighting in truth and finding what is right.

Paul showed integrity for changing his ways when he knew better. For adimitting he was wrong. That’s a big one!

Joseph Smith showed integrity by never denying what he had seen. “I knew it and I knew that God knew it.” How easy it would have been for him to just give into the world, “yeah, guys, you caught me.” But just because something is easy with Man doesn’t mean its easy with God. Giving into what the world wanted him to do would have eternal repercussions. It would NOT have been worth it. Easy and worth it are definitely not the same thing.

Life Lessons, Spiritual

He’s my Prophet

Keira
New photo by Keira / Google Photos

In case you didn’t hear, my Church called a new President. We really believe that God has given us a new prophet after the death of President Thomas S. Monson. It wasn’t any surprise to us that it is now President Russel M. Nelson as the prophet of God. A friend summed it up nicely when he said, “Only in the Mormon church would they replace a 90-year-old man with a 93-year-old man!” But unlike a popularity contest or a democratic vote, there’s a system set up as to whom our next prophet will be. There’s still room for change in that system, but I highly doubt we’ll ever see it deviate. Our church is quite proud of being a “house of order.”

I’m sure everyone has or will have their own experience about our new Prophet and that he is called from God (if not, I invite you to), but I wanted to write my own witness down in a place I would easily come back to and re-read. There was both a special virtual meeting for the members and a press conference to announce who would be our new Prophet/President. I actually watched it 15 minutes behind everyone else because I didn’t keep track of the time (I wish that wasn’t as common as it is. Just glad watching it right behind everyone was even possible). The whole member portion of the broadcast was fine, not really a surprise, but still interesting. It was nice hearing each of the called First Presidency address us. Elder Oaks has always been a powerhouse, and Elder Eyering is my daughter’s favorite. I loved President Uchdorf, too – who is now back in the quorum of the 12, just like when we rearrange a Young Women Presidency – but it seemed like he was everyone’s favorite and was utilized a LOT, so I’m excited to see a change. He will do well in his new assignment. As far as my previous feelings toward President Nelson: He trained the man who saved my grandfather’s life, so there’s that. But that’s not a testimony. That’s knowing he’s a world-renown surgeon and a pioneer in his field.

At the broadcast their messages to the members were all nice. I’m happy that Elder Oaks (President Oaks) let us all know that even though President Nelson is old, he’s still in excellent health and very active. Once again, he’s 93!

Then, there was a news conference where they took a few questions. It was such a juxtaposition to see the things interesting to the Saints and the things interesting to the news media. They wanted to know if his opinion was any different than the previous prophet. Members of the Church were not surprised to be reminded that it’s not President Nelson’s opinion that matters. It’s God’s opinion. Which is the same with President Nelson as it was for President Monson. I loved watching President Nelson put people first over and over in his answers. He talked about how he knew the newscasters before he ever answered their questions. Sometimes he’d even forget the questions. Knowing and Loving the people is important to him. President Monson always said, “Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved.” President Nelson exemplified this during the press conference.

One of the questions (an early question. No surprise. It’s what the Media has focused on) asked how President Nelson felt about LGBTQ agendas. When President Nelson’s response was that they are children of God and paused to let that soak in, my heart soared. I was thinking to myself, “of course that’s the question. But the answer wont change because it’s not his answer, it’s Gods.” And then hearing a reminder that everyone is a child of God… That is all it took for my testimony to find it’s roots. Not only did President Nelson zoom the focus back out to everyone – everyone is a child of God – but isn’t that always the answer? So many problems become minuscule when you remember that the person in question is important to Heavenly Father. The thing about testimonies is that it’s not just about the logical.  My testimony of the newest prophet of God isn’t just coming from my head. That’s the amazing thing about testimonies. Once the roots settle, your whole body, mind, and soul just … know. I know that President Nelson is a prophet of our church, my church. I know that he was called of God. He’s not just some old guy giving old-world advice. He is our Prophet. He is called of God. I look forward to a continued re-training of my thoughts as I hear his messages at conference. Thinking of him as more than a surgeon, but as the man that God has called to lead his church. He is just what God can use right now. He’s clear and concise and simple.

But mostly, He’s my Prophet.

 

Archives

Why My Ring is a Pearl

Keira

[disclaim]This article was put on my old blog on January 16, 2011. I wanted to share with you because it is the anniversary of the day my husband and I got engaged. [/disclaim]

My ring is a pearl. There’s a reason behind it. Let me explain:

Jenny’s Pearl Necklace

by: Author Unknown, Source Unknown

Jenny was a bright-eyed, cheerful young girl. One day when she and her mother were checking out at the grocery store, Jenny saw a circle of glistening white plastic pearls in a pink foil box. They were priced at $2.50. She begged her mom to buy them, they were so beautiful!

Her mother looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl and said.”If you really want them, I’ll think of some extra chores for you and you can save enough money to buy them yourself. Your birthday’s only a week away and you might get another dollar from Grandma.” Jenny saved up and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.

Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel grown up. She wore them everywhere–Sunday school, kindergarten, and all around the house. She treasured her pearls. But since they were just beads, eventually they got pretty worn down. Soon they were nothing but white beads on a worn string.

Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, “Do you love me?”

“Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you.”

“Then may I have your pearls?”

“Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. These are my favorite, I love these pearls.”

“That’s okay, honey. Daddy loves you. Good night.” And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

About a week later, after the story time, Jenny’s daddy asked again, “Do you love me?”

“Daddy, you know I love you.”

“Then will you give me your pearls?”

“Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper, if you want. But I love my pearls. You cant have my pearls.”

“That’s okay, Honey. Sleep well. Daddy loves you.” And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.

This went on for quite a while, always with the same result, until one night as Jenny’s Daddy came to read her a story, Jenny was sitting on her bed. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek.

“What is it, Jenny? What’s the matter?”

Jenny didn’t say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. When she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver, she finally said, “Here, Daddy. It’s for you. I know you love me, and you wouldn’t ask for my pearls unless you needed them.”

With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny’s kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the prized necklace. He quietly left and when he came back, the other hand held a blue velvet case. He handed it to Jenny and told her, “Thank you for giving me your most prized possession. I know you even saved up for it all by yourself. Now, I have this for you also.”

As Jenny pried open the blue velvet box, so nice a thing itself she’d never known, the glistening white sheen of the rich genuine pearls struck her teary eyes.

Her daddy hugged her tight and said, “I needed to know you would take care of these. I needed to know you would keep these pearls nice. And now I know.”

I remember when I was trying to make things work out with my ex, I called my mom one night and I said, “mom, what if this is like that stupid pearl story? What if God’s just waiting to bless me when I’m ready to let go? But what if I don’t WANT to let go? I already know what this is like, and I am okay with fake pearls. I don’t want to let go.

And then when he left, I realized just how worn and chipped those plastic beads were. And how much I would have been missing.

And now… Now I have my real pearl.

Archives, Gratitude Dare, Life Lessons

Why My Mom Likes Thorns (an archived post)

Keira
Originally posted on my old blog Feb 25, 2011.
I don’t know what Mom was going through. I was only a kid. But as an adult, I look back, and I realize there must have been SOMETHING going on in her life, when she first came across this story. Otherwise, it would not have meant what it did and still does.
For at least 15 years, but probably more, my mother has had a vase of dried, rose-less thorns sitting in a prominent place in her house. They’re quiet and unobtrusive, but distinctly different, And if you ask her what they’re doing there, she will tell you this story…

THE THANKSGIVING “SPECIAL” BOUQUET
by: Author unknown

Sandra felt as low as the heels of her Birkenstocks as she pushed against a November gust and the florist shop door. Her life had been easy, like spring breeze. Then in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor automobile accident stole her ease.

During this Thanksgiving week she would have delivered a son. She grieved over her loss. As if that weren’t enough, her husband’s company threatened a transfer. Then her sister, whose holiday visit she coveted, called saying she could not come. What’s worse, Sandra’s friend infuriated her by suggesting her grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer.

“She has no idea what I’m feeling,” thought Sandra with a shudder.

Thanksgiving? Thankful for what? She wondered. For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her? For an air bag that saved her life but took that of her child?

“Good afternoon, may I help you?” The shop clerk’s approach startled her.

“I….I need an arrangement,” stammered Sandra.

“For Thanksgiving? Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the Thanksgiving “Special?” asked the shop clerk. “I’m convinced that flowers tell stories,” she continued. “Are you looking for something that conveys ‘gratitude’ this Thanksgiving?”

“Not exactly!” Sandra blurted out. “In the last five months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.”

Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the shop clerk said, “I have the perfect arrangement for you.”

Then the door’s small bell rang, and the shop clerk said, “Hi, Barbara…let me get your order.”

She politely excused herself and walked toward a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an arrangement of greenery, bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses; Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped: there were no flowers.

“Want this in a box?” asked the clerk.

Sandra watched for the customer’s response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems with no flowers! She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed.

“Yes, please,” Barbara replied with an appreciative smile. “You’d think after three years of getting the special, I wouldn’t be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again,” she said as she gently tapped her chest.

“Uh,” stammered Sandra, “that lady just left with, uh….she just left with no flowers!”

“Right, said the clerk, “I cut off the flowers. That’s the Special. I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t tell me someone is willing to pay for that!” exclaimed Sandra.

“Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling much like you feel today,” explained the clerk. “She thought she had very little to be thankful for. She had lost her father to cancer, the family business was failing, her son was into drugs, and she was facing major surgery.”

“That same year I had lost my husband,” continued the clerk, “and for the first time in my life, had just spent the holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow any travel.”

“So what did you do?” asked Sandra.

“I learned to be thankful for thorns,” answered the clerk quietly. “I’ve always thanked God for good things in life and never to ask Him why those good things happened to me, but when bad stuff hit, did I ever ask! It took time for me to learn that dark times are important. I have always enjoyed the ‘flowers’ of life, but it took thorns to show me the beauty of God’s comfort. You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we’re afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others.”

Sandra sucked in her breath as she thought about the very thing her friend had tried to tell her. “I guess the truth is I don’t want comfort. I’ve lost a baby and I’m angry with God.”

Just then someone else walked in the shop.

“Hey, Phil!” shouted the clerk to the balding, rotund man.

“My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving arrangement…twelve thorny, long-stemmed stems,” laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue-wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.

“Those are for your wife?” asked Sandra incredulously. “Do you mind me asking why she wants something that looks like that?”

“No…I’m glad you asked,” Phil replied. “Four years ago my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the Lord’s grace and guidance, we slogged through problem after problem. He rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she learned from “thorny” times, and that was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific “problem” and give thanks for what that problem taught us.”

As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra, “I highly recommend the Special.”

I don’t know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life,” Sandra said to the clerk. “It’s all too…fresh.”

“Well,” the clerk replied carefully, “my experience has shown me that thorns make roses more precious. We treasure God’s providential care more during trouble than at any other time. Remember, it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love. Don’t resent the thorns.”

Tears rolled down Sandra’s cheeks. For the first time since the accident, she loosened her grip on resentment.

“I’ll take those twelve long-stemmed thorns, please,” she managed to choke out.

“I hoped you would,” said the clerk gently. “I’ll have them ready in a minute.”

“Thank you. What do I owe you?” Sarah asked.

“Nothing; nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart. The first year’s arrangement is always on me.” The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra. “I’ll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first.”

It read:

“My God, I have never thanked You for my thorns. I have thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns. Teach me the glory of the life I bear; teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain. Show me that, through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant.”

Praise Him for your roses, thank him for your thorns.

Educational, Life Lessons

Fascinating

Keira

How our brain works
provided by Flickr user _DJ_

My schedule has completely deviated from it’s outline today. I just have to deviate. It would be a shame to stick to the planned itinerary when this information is so fascinating and crucial and important. I don’t want to forget what I’m learning and I don’t want to miss a chance to tell you about it. The best opportunities are often seized and not plotted. Especially when it comes to learning and teaching. So instead of doing the baby quilt on my floor, the half-finished mending projects, and reading the rest of my homework without taking a break to jot down what I’m learning, I’m doing some major note-taking and blogging today I’ve also just spent about 3 hours staring at the same page on Flickr to try to add a picture to this new thread. I gave up. No picture. Sorry. Flickr’s back! Yea for less frustration!

Can I say this again: This stuff is FASCINATING!

FIrst off, let me just say I highly recommend Once Upon a Brain: How Neuroscience Can Be Your Colleague in the Classroom by Thomas Morley for any teachers, homeschoolers, PSR workers, or anyone involved in a relationship with any other human that wants to improve upon understanding . I’m finding it incredibly valuable. I think it links so many pieces I have gleaned from other sources, like Charlotte Mason teaching methods, Thomas Jefferson Education methods, Love and Logic, and even LDS principals of accountability and how we do the “weird” thinks we do. I’m only in chapter 4 and I’m pretty impressed. I’d like to share about a million things from its pages.

Life Lessons

Hezekiah

Keira

I have been reading the Old Testament for about 4 years. I’m still in Kings. I’ve changed the direction of the goal, though. Instead of reading to a specific point each day, thereby getting exhausted, and not reading for a few days afterwards, I am just going to read every day. Get as far as I get, and embrace the change. I know, sort of a no-brainer solution, huh? That’s what I get for looking so close to the problem.

I do have to say, up until the last few chapters of 2 Kings, I was determined that I would never read through the books of Kings again! So depressing and dry. I’ll take Leviticus any day. And then I come across a humble king in all the history of Kings named Hezekiah. He’s my hero. He saves the whole book for me. Here’s a guy, knowing all is lost, and still fighting for restoring faith to his people. He already knows Judah is going to face the same fate as Israel in a few short years, and yet he gives it all he’s got to save the people. Isaiah even says that it’s too late, that their fate has already been sealed. But that doesn’t stop Hezekiah from going to and doing the work. If you need a hero that fights for lost causes, he’s it. Then, he’s informed by Isaiah of his imminent death, pleads with God for more time, and is granted 15 more years. He’s also granted the opportunity to die before he sees the cause be utterly lost.

Gratitude Dare, Life Lessons

Day 29: Waiting.

Keira

[warning]Warning: This post is two days after it should have been written and it’s still emotionally triggering.[/warning]

Major confession: This is the challenge that is the toughest for me. If something is good, why do I have to wait for it? The only answer I have is Garth Brooks’ Unanswered Prayers.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wU9ovUxiwGo

(sorry for the TV show playing with it. It’s the best vid I could find on Youtube) My dad was a thorough Garth Brooks fan; had all the CD’s (or tapes; some of them were tapes). I heard this song throughout my entire childhood. Still doesn’t mean it’s easy though.

dare

And I know people always say you’ll value it more because you have to wait for it. I am willing to say that that might be true. But it’s still not a comfort when you have to wait.

I was hoping from the get-go that by building up to this for a month, I’d have some answers, but I don’t. I researched it to find answers, but the truth is, I really don’t know. I’m sure it’s pride getting in the way of not knowing and not wanting to accept, and I’ll work on that; But I still just don’t know.

Ready for a secret? We’ve been trying to have a baby for two and a half years. At first it was just the “whatever happens, happens.” But with an already-mature 7 (now eight, and eventually 9-year-old), we didn’t want to stay in that phase too long. The gap is forever growing; and it’s growing rapidly.

And I don’t talk about it because it’s too raw. So very raw. There have been miscarriages, there have been months I was convinced it’d finally happen. And here I am, Nursery leader and baby-less. Sometimes I think I’m finally over it and moved on and then something will happen and I’m thrown right back into it, and it’ll prove how so un-over it I really am. And then I’ll spend countless days trying to figure out why I am still so stuck in the same place. I’m not the type to want pity, though; that doesn’t work for me. That’s yet another reason I don’t talk about it.

Pity is so inadequate when your sister calls you Christmas morning and tells you that your Christmas present is that she gets to hold a new baby soon. And that it’s due on your birthday.  Or all of the times your sister calls to brag about her expanding abdomen. Or the incredible loss and shame when that same sister calls and tells you that the baby you’ve been dreading isn’t going to live in this world and knowing that even though you struggled with your feelings, you never wanted that. Or holding your sister’s hand while she buries the baby she rubbed in your face. And then there’s all of the times she needs your shoulder to cry on because she doesn’t have a baby to hold and you just wish you had the guts to lose it and scream at her that at least it was only one! At least she was barely trying. At least she got to see and hold and caress a body! At least, at least, at least. But you know that wont help. And that even though she is naive, she doesn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. But no one deserves the hurt I’ve had to face, either. And she needs you, and you’re the protector. So you just take it.

Pity doesn’t cover the fact that your ex has had two babies all in the time you’ve been trying.  And that both he and your ex-best-friend he’s currently married to have complained about having so many kids… Before these two were even conceived. It doesn’t help the agony of knowing that they get pregnant with oops babies they don’t even want and you’re begging for a family that isn’t coming. The first one really got to me. I at least had my head on a little better by the time they announced the second one. Wherein they told my daughter (remember, she’s 8), they didn’t even want it, and that it was a surprise.

Or all of the people advising you on how awesome babies are, in case you were needing encouragement.

Or realizing that some of the sunbeams you are watching were born during the countless months you were trying, and miscarrying, and still trying. Or the hours bawling that they’d even call you to nursery! And as the baby-quilt maker for the ward. At the same time.

People mourned with my sister. And I’m glad they did. But no one mourns with me. No one sees my grief. My best friends both know how much I want it, but both admit they can’t really understand. At least they listen. At least they are there for me, but no one else even knows. Because the pain is too real to tell anyone. Not even my mother knows. Well, she knows enough that we never talk about it and pretend the elephant in the room doesn’t exist, but otherwise, she doesn’t know.

I’ve had blessing after blessing where the Lord says he’s so grateful for my desire to be a mother. One time, the person blessing me didn’t even know my heart, started bawling through the blessing and told me that my body would heal itself and I’d be able to bear children. That was a year and a half ago.

And there’s countless conference talks about waiting patiently. President Eyering even gave one recently on having to wait for a baby. I’ve read the talk countless times, begged for everything I could think of, and I’m still here, wondering what my mission in life really is.

And then there’s my husband. At first I think he just wanted a baby because I wanted one. But now… His level of sorrow is just as intense as mine. Mostly more than mine, as now I’m mostly numb.

And I’ve got all of this added burden because sometimes, after years of heartbreak every month, I wonder if it’s all worth it. 9 years is a big gap. And I’m not used to babies any more. And I enjoy my free time. And even though women my age have babies all the time, I feel so OLD. But I feel so guilty for those thoughts creeping in; something I’ve wanted for so long and now I don’t? It’s such a complicated place to be. I don’t even really know if I don’t, but the tears currently streaming down my face could testify to the fact that most of this paragraph is a lie I’ve been telling myself to make it okay. To make two years worth of hidden battles I’ve faced somehow be okay. Even wanted.

That’s why I have no advice on being grateful for the chance to wait. Some day, I’ll change this day’s answer in the Gratitude Dare. But for now… for now this is what I’ve got.