"But behold, I...will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith..." (
1 Nephi 1:20)
I have been the beneficiary of this promise today.
Over the last couple of weeks, I've had one friend who had a miscarriage and another who is anxiously awaiting the birth of her fourth child. Both have had a hard time with their particular trials. The first was understandably depressed for a time, and missing her mom. She had told me that she needed a hug in a bad way. That evening I had my regular Tuesday night Young Women activity. My sister was in town visiting, so I didn't have to worry about rushing to pick Julie up from the babysitter afterward, and I had a feeling that I should go visit this friend on my way home. It was a small gesture and required hardly any effort on my part, but it made a big difference to my friend that I stopped by, unplanned, solely for the sake of giving her a hug. We talked for a few minutes and then I headed home.
The second friend has had a really rough pregnancy and is now overdue. She's been in labor -- pretty uncomfortably so -- for a couple of weeks, and her doctor won't do anything for her (other than be a ginormous jerk). Basically she's miserable right now. A week and a half ago I made some
amazing brownies, that I'd been thinking about. Julie didn't like them (they weren't standard fare), and they're too rich for Ben and I to eat a whole pan of by ourselves. In trying to figure out how to get rid of some of them, this friend popped into my head. At 8:00 at night I called her to see if I could come over to bring her some. I did, and we ended up chatting for about an hour an a half, which was fun for me, and apparently needed for her. It started because I just wanted to unload some brownies.
I don't mean to sound like I'm totally awesome for doing either of these things, but it's been an interesting experience for me. In both cases, I felt definitely prompted to help these friends. In neither case did it cost me a lot of effort or inconvenience. In both cases I felt like I was helping these friends in small ways, yet I knew that they were significant to them. I've been reminded through these experiences of giving small service that our Heavenly Father is mindful of us -- each of us. What is important to us is important to Him. Our sorrows are His, and if He can ease those through another person, He often does. Usually a reminder of this comes when I myself am the recipient of services, not the giver.
Yesterday was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Robyn has reached an age where she likes to be held (or paid direct attention to) about 12 hours a day (she's asleep the other 12). It's exhausting. Yesterday she was "off" for a different reason (which reason I don't know). She didn't eat very well. She took only two naps, each of which were less than 30 minutes long. She wouldn't stop crying. By 1:45, I was so done with my day. I told Ben as much, though he was at work still. He said he'd be home as quickly as he could be. By 4:45 I was counting down the minutes until he would be. By 5:00, I had to put Robyn down in her bouncy chair, strap her in, and walk away. She wouldn't stop crying, and I was honestly afraid I might shake her. (I hesitate to write that "out loud" but I know I'm not the only one, and I want others to know they're not alone.) Intending to take a shower, I went down to the laundry room to get some clean clothes to put on afterward. Instead I sank down on the floor in front of the washing machine and just sobbed. I stayed there for awhile; the laundry room is the only place in the house where I couldn't hear Robyn's cries still. I wanted my mommy.
Julie heard me and came to see what was wrong. Feeling bad about leaving Robyn alone (aside from this stage she's in, she's naturally very social and doesn't like to be left alone at all), I asked her to go upstairs and stay with her sister. I continued to cry for 10-15 minutes. I finally pulled myself together a little bit and went back upstairs, where I found Julie sitting on the floor, bouncing Robyn in the chair, and singing to her. Robyn had stopped crying. I was so touched by the scene that tears sprang to my eyes again. I picked Robyn up and began to pace with her. Not two minutes later, Ben pulled in the driveway and relieved me. I got my shower, during which time he made dinner and tended to both girls. I needed to make a quick grocery run that night to pick a few things up for teaching school today, so I took Julie with me and got some ice cream as well.
Late last night, I read a
blog post that greatly comforted me. I felt like the timing of the article was precise to when I needed it most, though it may also have been coincidence.
This morning, I woke up to find that Ben had gotten me a panini press for Valentine's Day. I had wanted one for Christmas, but it wasn't in the cards this year. We usually don't do anything more than
heart-shaped pizzas for Valentine's Day, so this was a big surprise. He got a donut-maker for Julie (and Robyn), which will be fun. He also wrote a mushy and sentimental note with the gifts.
A friend sent me a nerdy and punny Valentine's Day e-card, which was thoughtful.
An hour or so ago, the doorbell rang. We ordered something online last week, so I figured it was that package. Imagine my surprise when I found a box full of beautiful tulips from my dad.
Our individual importance has been on my mind the last couple of weeks, because I have been a part of making sure others know it. Today I have been blessed by others doing the same thing for me when I have needed the comfort and personal reminder. I'm a lucky girl.
