Letter from Heavenly Father

This was shared by one of my YCLs as part of a Devotional at Girl's Camp. It really spoke to me, and I didn't want to forget it:

Dear Daughter,

I remember well the day you left my side, wandered through the veil and ventured forth to fulfill you earthly mission. I had a tear in my eye as I clothed your spirit in a cloak of love and sent you off to school. Be assured that my thoughts are with you now, as always.

I love you with all of my heart. I know your life, the good, the bad, your grief, your disappointments, your unrewarded efforts, your frustrations. But always remember--all that I have is yours if you will only come home again.

Daughter, realize that in you I have placed a bit of heaven. No one was exempt. I love all of my children. You have some blessed gift, some talent, some little part of me in you. Search for it, develop it, use it, and most importantly, share it with others. If you really love me, then help others find themselves and lead them to me. Show your love by serving others.

Repent of your failings and humble yourself. Make yourself ever teachable and continually strive to improve. I gave you weaknesses to help you be humble. Don't condemn me for that. I did it because I love you. Be full of hope. Don't let discouragement engulf you. I'll come if you need me.

Daughter, cease your idle contentions. Be a peacemaker, for it breaks my heart to see so many of my children fighting. If they could only see what I have hoped, planned and desired for them. My heart breaks as I watch them. But you, faithful daughter, are my hope. It is through you that my work must proceed. You haven't much time and there is so much work to be done. I beg you to get started. Accomplish the mission I gave to you before you left me. I'll help you. I'll never be too busy or too far away to come to you. I'm nearer to you always than you might suspect. I have so much I would like to tell you, but I can't here.

Come to me often in prayer. I love to talk to you, my beloved daughter. Be diligent in my work and my kingdom shall be yours. I'd love to take you in my arms, but I too, must wait patiently: that time will come. Till then I leave you my peace, my blessing, my love, and never forget I am nearby whenever you need me.

I love you and miss you so very much and, oh, how I am looking forward to your return to me.

All my love,

Your Heavenly Father

This 'letter' truly feels like it was written for me. I especially love the line, I gave you weaknesses to help you be humble. It seems so obvious now, but I had never thought of it quite that way before. I am trying to become humble so that someday, as the scripture says, my weaknesses can become strengths.

The Climb

Nearly three years ago, when we first moved into our house, I took dinner to a young couple in our church who had just had their first baby. At that time, I had been trying to begin my family for three years. I remember looking at this new mom. She seemed so young and so newly married, it made me wonder, why can she begin her family while I still have to wait?

I barely knew her, so I was a bit nervous dropping off the pizza I had picked up for them on the way home from work. I practically threw the pizza in her arms and almost rushed away without even seeing the baby!

Nearly three years later, tonight in fact, I again took dinner to this new mom. She had her third child last Friday. This beautiful woman has had three children, while I am still waiting for one.

She is the sweetest gal, and I like her very much. As I left their house (a mother, father, and three young children), I couldn't help but think how strange it is to watch someone else live your life. Not really your life, but the life you always thought you would have.

Being Mormon, I am constantly surrounded by other people living my life. They are everywhere I look. Their families grow, year after year, and I stay the same.

Learning to live a life that is different than you imagined is a work in progress. I'm not sure I will ever be completely content with where I am right now. So, I am trying to enjoy the process.

A while back, I compared my infertility to a miserable but incredibly rewarding hike I did last summer. Since then, I have noticed even more how similar these experiences really are.

I recently heard a song that uses the same climbing analogy, encouraging you to learn to enjoy (or at least appreciate) the journey. I am supposed to be learning something from all this. What? I still don't know. Maybe that's the reason I've been climbing for so long...

Press ► to play music


This song was originally recorded by Miley Cyrus, however, I simply can't listen to her. I have no idea who sings this version.

I can almost see it
That dream I'm dreaming
But there's a voice inside my head sayin,
You'll never reach it.

Every step I'm taking
Every move I make
Feels lost with no direction
My faith is shaking

But I got to keep trying
Got to keep my head held high

There's always going to be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always going to be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing,
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down but
No I'm not breaking

I may not know it
But these are the moments
That I'm going to remember most
Just got to keep going

I got to be strong
Just keep pushing on

There's always going to be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always going to be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

First Come, First Served

Congratulating a fellow infertile on their pregnancy is always an interesting dynamic.

On one hand, I am truly excited for them, and grateful they have moved on to the next adventure.

On the other hand, a small part of me can't help but feel a little deflated. Why not me? I've been waiting longer.

It's then I have to remind myself that parenthood is not a first-come, first-served blessing.

And so I wait...

Holidays

When I was a teenager, I loved Valentine's Day. I thought the legend behind it was sweet, and I always looked forward to celebrating the "day of love".

For some reason, I always had a boyfriend or an admirer at that time of year. I didn't plan it that way, it just always happened. As Valentine's Day would roll around, I felt no dread, only excitement about the potential surprises that awaited me from whatever love interest I had at that time. I was also anxious to surprise him with something fun.

I'm sure I thought about those who had no romantic prospects. I consider myself an empathetic person, for the most part. I must have experienced a fleeting consideration for those who found that day to be depressing and lonely. Seemingly, however, I must have moved on quite quickly to the excitement of my day.

I have no doubt that, should motherhood have come easily, I would have had the same attitude toward Mother's Day. Consumed in the pleasures that came with celebrating and being celebrated, I imagine any thoughts about those left out would have been brief. I know I would have felt sad for those who had no mother to celebrate, but I hesitate to think I would have remembered those who remained childless.

Among the millions of people living in this country, there were surely millions who felt pain this Mother's Day. Some were people who's mother passed away. Others were people who never knew their mother or are estranged from their mother. Also, there were mothers hurting because they have lost their children and those mothers whose husbands / children did not make Mother's Day special for them, leaving them disappointed. And, of course, there are the women who could not become mothers.

When Father's Day rolls around, these same painful feelings will be felt by a whole new set of people.

This Mother's Day, I reflected on holidays in general and found myself dividing them into two categories: event oriented and people oriented. Event oriented holidays would include those holidays that celebrate an event: Easter, 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc.

The second set celebrates people. There are holidays that celebrate groups of people in a community sense, such as Veteran's Day. Then there are the holidays that celebrate individual people in a relationship sense: Mother's Day, Father's Day, even Valentine's Day.

Now I'll throw something out there... Do we really need these 'relationship' holidays? I'm not saying we don't. It was just an interesting thought to explore.

We have Valentine's Day to celebrate the love between two people. Couldn't that be done on an anniversary? And in a much classier, personalized, and intimate way? No more paying $200 for a sad vase of flowers and trying to make reservations in an over-crowded, over-priced restaurant. You celebrate your love on a day that is special to YOU. Or you could celebrate these people just because you love them. I have to say that I don't remember many things Ryan did for me on various Valentine's Days, but I'll never forget the random day he sent me flowers just because.

Likewise, Mother's Day and Father's Day are there to show our parents how much we love and appreciate them. Couldn't this also be done on a day that special to your relationship? Their birthday? YOUR birthday? What about sending a note to mom, or taking Dad out to dinner just because you love them. Seems this would mean so much more. No longer is your kind gesture perceived as fulfilling a societal obligation, but it is now a token of selfless giving. I would love to wake up and find my children greeting me with soggy cereal and burnt toast on a random Saturday morning, not because it was Mother's Day and it was expected.

I know mothers work hard and are often times unappreciated. I fully believe that having a day to honor them is wonderful. I enjoyed visiting with my Mom this year on Mother's Day. I look forward to sharing Mother's Day with my children someday.

But even when that day comes, I know that Mother's Day in my eyes will always be different than it would have been, had motherhood come easy. I will never be able to enjoy it as carefree as I enjoyed those Valentine's Days long ago. A little bit of the innocence and blissful naivete has been lost. On that day, my thoughts will always wonder toward that 'other' group of women: the ones gritting their teeth, swallowing their tears, and praying for the day to be over.