Milestones

Everyone has them. Events along the path of life that make you stop, take stock and think about where you're going and where you've been. I've reached a few this past month.

This is what Darrel left on the bathroom mirror the morning of our 15th Wedding Anniversary. It was perfect! Why sticky notes, you ask? What sort of anniversary gift is that? You would have to know that some of our very important marital communication over the years has taken place on sticky notes: reminders, love notes, sharing information on who is where and why, and giving encouragement and apologies. They've been indispensable. I could do a testimonial on sticky notes to rival mine on Ziplocs. So I smiled and felt loved when I saw my sticky note heart on the mirror.

Darrel is the sanity in an insane world. He is patient and tolerant. He is strong and protective. With his help and example I have become so much better than I ever would be if left to my own devices. True love transforms people. It motivates me to try harder when I feel like I can't conquer my own personal weaknesses. It helps me see things as they really are. It makes me want to bend when my gut reaction is to be stubborn or selfish. It gives me hope when I am discouraged. Loving and working alongside and building a joyful life with my husband these 15 years has been everything to me.

Another milestone is the year that's passed since we lost a baby boy.

It was another Conference weekend that we were mourning the loss of this baby that was almost ours. Almost. We never get to fully claim with adoption until that baby is home in our arms, which makes mourning the loss difficult. I couldn't gain any comfort in thinking that this baby, though gone, was still part of our eternal family. He belongs to someone else. I never felt that there was someone missing from our family...that THAT baby was supposed to be here and now wasn't. Our family doesn't feel empty. But the experience opened up old wounds made years ago when we found out we'd never have children biologically...wounds I thought were healed. Oh, the vast unfairness of it all! It drives me nuts if I let it. I went back to being angry at God. After all, if He could make it possible for us to have children and wasn't doing it, even through adoption, then He was the one ultimately responsible for the misery I was feeling. I knew differently, deep down, but I have to learn the same lessons over and over again.

I've learned this year that that's the way life goes. You lose, you grieve, you heal and learn to trust again that God does still love you and then it cycles back again with all the losses that life brings. There is a strength and a depth people gain from loss and difficulty, though. A deeper caring and sympathy for others facing their own life's struggles. You learn that you can go on after tragedy...you have to. There's no choice, life does and must go on whether you lose a child, a spouse, a friend or a dream. I am surrounded by amazing, strong people that have lived beyond the loss and still trust that a loving Father in Heaven is holding us in the palm of His hand, even when it doesn't feel that way.

I've learned to keep doing the right things--to cling to them even if I don't "feel" it because somewhere in me, I know that the storms will pass and I will get back to knowing and trusting and loving and feeling loved again. I learned to love the hymn "How Firm a Foundation". I can't hear it or sing it without getting teary. If you haven't read the words very closely before you should, and read all the verses.

I learned about hope in a way I never had before. Hope that goes beyond just wishing for something. Real hope that is "expectation based on experience". Hope that keeps you moving forward in the darkness because you trust that eventually there will be light. There was an excellent article in the Ensign magazine about hope which helped me understand it better than I ever have before. I copied this poem from that article and stuck it (where else) on my fridge so I can see it daily.

Walking with Two Sisters

by Larry Hiller

Faith walks before me,

Holding up her lamp

As I try not to stumble in the ink-

dark hours before the dawn.

Her light illuminates

One step and then another.

Beside me, Hope, arm linked

with mine, encourages and

steadies.

Sometimes in the tedium,

Distracted by the pain,

My mind begins to wander, then

my feet. I hesitate.

Unsure, I look to Hope.

Her hand takes mine.

The touch reminds me of another

hand held out to mine.

One pierced and scarred

Yet oh so tender

Lifting me and blessing me when

I had fallen and despaired.

Remembering,

I move ahead

Buoyed up by Hope, who sees

the end with perfect clarity.

Hope, my wonderful husband, a loving Heavenly Father and sheer tenacity have helped me weather the particular storm that has been this past few years, and especially this year--a year with an amazingly difficult church calling, subsequent adoption situations that didn't come to fruition, and all the regular hubbub that comes with raising a family. I could go into great detail on each of these, but suffice it to say, we are making it with all the important things intact. (I loved Elder Uchtdorf's talk yesterday, by the way,--it went right along with this.)

So this takes me back to Darrel. When we set out in life as newlyweds, we didn't--we couldn't--possibly know what we would face ahead of us. We had dated and learned as much as we could about each other and made a decision based on what we felt was right, and had faith that it was the very best we could do. We still couldn't know how each of us would react to every difficulty in our life. But when we get to them and hold hands, bracing against the storms and make it out on the other side, I find an even deeper appreciation for Darrel's gifts and strengths that allow me to lean on him for a while and catch my breath before moving forward. I love you, Darrel! And I love our life together!