Friday, June 8, 2018
Part of President Nelson's invitation to the youth last Sunday was to spend time gathering scattered Israel (IE, helping all people everywhere find Jesus Christ) for the next three weeks instead of doing something you love. I remembered that tonight after plopping down on the couch to swimsuit shop, my sweet babies snoozing upstairs above me. Knowing that doing family history work is part of helping all people everywhere find my Savior, I clicked out of Albion Fit's summer lineup and tapped on my Family Search app. I hopped around on the app for a few minutes until I landed on my own Family Tree, resorting (or so I thought!) to reading more about my family versus finding people to do temple work for (confession: I don't have the patience for family history work. At least, not yet :)). Who would've thought that something from my sweet Great-Grandma, Eva Burr, was exactly what I needed at the end of another typically taxing, sweetest-gig-ever, solo-parenting day in my life as a mother...

The beautiful song, "April Showers," says life is not a highway strewn with flowers. No, it's a hard-surfaced road paved with bad cases of croup when hard coughing awakens you at night. You don't dash up stairs [sic]. You make a mustard plaster and take it with you and stay until the coughing has subsided. Then there are broken arms and legs each one takes a turn at, even Reed (her husband, my great-grandfather). You don't have time for a break! There's polio and a gun-shot wound, and the removal of the lining of the heart. But you learn to master all this, and "there's a goodly share of bliss."

What a sage. You learn to master all this, and "there's a goodly share of bliss." Learning, literally, to master my workload and then recognizing its intertwined, goodly share of bliss has been the greatest opportunity of my young life as a young mother. Acknowledging that my work is a beautiful mess keeps me with this job. It is hard. And then you know what? It isn't.

My every day is as complex as it is simple, as strenuous as it is easy, as taxing as it is freeing, and as heavy as it is pure bliss. I did three rounds of dishes after cooking three healthy, delicious meals for my daughters that they loved. I vacuumed twice after watching my girls creatively cut paper to smithereens, and then after they trekked inside after playing gleefully in the sand. I readied each baby for bed (which is always like herding three, wound-up little sheep), and then held, kissed, and cuddled each of those sweet, soft, sleepy girls to bed. Some days the hard-surfaced road feels too long to walk, especially by myself. But I'm not the only woman that has done this, which is VITAL to recognize when pursuing that magical, goodly share of bliss. Eva was here once, too, a mustard plaster in hand, staying by her baby till the coughing had passed.

She buoyed me up tonight. I can do another day, week, month -- even a year. Eva has been here! 


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