Called to Know the Richness of His Blessings

Sister Kathy Andersen, Elder Andersen's wife, is a powerfully faithful woman. Sometimes we see such faith depicted as blind, or unintelligent. She is bright and feisty, but ever trusting in the Lord. Right after her husband was sustained as an apostle, she gave a talk at BYU Women's conference, about faithful women pioneers, repeating throughout the talk the refrain from the hymn 'Joseph Smith's First Prayer': "but undaunted still he/she trusted in His Heavenly Father's care." I have learned unexpected things from her. In the Paris temple, she spoke of the blessing the temple is for the humble saints of Brazil. By getting married in the temple, they are blessed to marry in a more refined and beautiful place than they could ever hope to see or afford. She also said something that is in keeping with the thoughts I've been trying to cultivate about tender mercies and heavenly perspective. She said, 'don't forget to live your life with miracles.'

I'm in a bit of a strange season these days. My life is full. Exhausting and nearly without margin. These are all such good things. DH's new firm has more work than they can do. I get to teach seminary with him every morning. Our children are faithful and healthy, active and good. But I am tired. Always so tired.

I was trying to explain to Bam one day why I couldn't listen to his deep needs for a new app. I reminded him how frustrating it is to find that the bandwidth of our wifi is overextended by the occupants of the house--to find wheels turning, systems buffering, but to be unable to do the thing we want to do. He could identify. I then said, well, I have no bandwidth right now. My brain, my energies, my patience are all overextended by the necessaries of our life and I have zero bandwidth for any new programs at this time. Begrudgingly, he understood and it has become my shorthand for expressions of frustrations lately. Zero bandwidth. No breath.

I worry about that. I find myself very uncharitable toward opportunities to serve above my regular stewardships. I am NOT naturally inclined to ask for another calling when the going gets tough. I find myself very grumpy when asked to extend myself, to do more, on a temporary basis. I can't seem to get back to the place where my charity hadn't failed. I know that miracles come in doing things we don't think we have time for. I know that tender mercies live in letting the Lord order our priorities and shake up our schedules. And yet, I am maxed out. I have no room, no bandwidth to sign up to bring dinner to someone, to help, to even contemplate the ministering that is my covenant obligation.

During General Conference this weekend, Elder Holland was tasked with teaching us how to minister in a better and semi-new way. He told the story of a young father whose wife had collapsed. He called his home teacher and said only "I need you here NOW." And the friend and home teacher came running and ministered to his needs and wants, caring for him and his family while his wife passed away. It was all I could do to not sob audibly during this story. I pitifully thought, at first, that my feelings were because I couldn't imagine who I could call in that same desperate way. But the more I think about it, really probing my thoughts and feelings, I find that my reaction was so visceral because I can't imagine who would call me in that same desperate way. And even worse, I can't imagine reacting very lovingly if someone did.

I need to carve out room. I need to find my breath. I need a better router, I suppose, to augment my bandwidth. I struggle with margins, I always have. I know that I function best with fairly wide ones. But is that allowing for miracles? How do I balance self-care? How do I hold a space for nurturing others--to be available and willing when the need and opportunity arises? I know I am richly blessed, in so many ways. I'm just having a hard time acting like it, I guess.

Whirlwinds and

This year. Oh this year has been a whirlwind already. On Christmas Day a dear friend lost her husband. We jumped to nurture. We were humbled by how many have jumped into the nurture with us. But there are things I can't do for her because I am far. There are things no one can do for her because it's the new road she has to walk without her husband now. In the moment, in my stark inability to do, to fix, I reorganized my pantry, my linen closets. I had to find order somewhere. It's almost strange now to look at the baskets and labels now and remember that time.

And from that point, there hasn't been a breath. CE prepared for her mission. She came home from college. She got two jobs. And for 3 months, we juggled cars and children, people and needs with crazy precision and fabulous failure. And my natural tendency to think ahead to when things would get easier failed me. Because when things would get easier is when CE would be in the MTC. And as much as her serving a mission was the right thing, it is a HARD thing. So, for 3 months I bumped around with the razor thin margins, dreading the impending relief and the emptiness it would bring.

Sooner than seemed possible, we entered the days when everyone wanted 'last times' with the missionary. We tried to carve out some family time, knowing but not being able to fathom the real possibility that once CE returns, Z may already be gone and CW will almost surely go before Z returns and what form will our family even take by then??? We tried to juggle the regular needs of the family members who aren't leaving. We tried to accommodate the people who wanted to come and visit. Our home filled with house guests. We planned farewell meals and an open house. But suddenly, we were in the Stake President's home and he was pronouncing regal blessings on my baby girl's head as he set her apart to be a missionary. It's been weeks and I still can't think of that night without sobbing more than a little. We tried to pause in the whirlwind for reflection, for time to really ponder these moments with heaven. But my fingernails weren't nearly strong enough to cling to the time remaining and it slipped through my fingers.

Little M, who isn't so little any longer began processing the whole departure of Sis in a bad way. She sobbed, she worried allowed that Sissy won't ever come home. She became inconsolable and so we offered to let her come with us to drop CE at the MTC. DH, CE, M and I drove up to Utah. We stopped at BYU for CE to say goodbye to her freshman friends, then we stopped again to hug cousins and my sister. And then we arrived at the home of my dear friend, the new widow.

She is my friend who came running when my sink overflowed and I hung up on her. She is my friend who taught me how to have a husband in the hospital. She is my friend who, when times get tough, asks for another calling and maybe a third. Her faith is strong. She is brave. And now she has to be, because the love of her life is in heaven. It warmed my heart to see that her local friends are caring for her, bringing her dinner because she forgets the time and to eat. Watching for her family and helping her care for her home. These are things I can't do for her because she lives far away now.

I didn't sleep that last night. M insisted on sleeping next to CE. All too soon, we were packing up, making one final Target run for forgotten luggage tags and praying and hugging one last time and then we arrived at the MTC. With absolutely zero ceremony, we drove up to the designated spot, nice women asked for CE's luggage and we hugged and she left. We left. Months of planning, weeks of packing, a life time of preparing and in 2 minutes CE was officially ON her mission.

So we drove home. There was nothing left to do. And it was okay. M was at peace. I get weepy from time to time, but my missionary has her own power about her these days. Her letters radiate the precious errand she is on. People are waiting for the angel she is preparing--has prepared her whole life--to be. And that is such a good thing.