Happy Thanks-iversary

Fourteen years ago tonight I crawled into a hotel bed with my soon-to-be mother-in-law. I must have eventually made some sort of bargain with sleep to rush me into the next day. It would be the day after Thanksgiving- the day I would marry Wesley Johnson in the Seattle LDS temple.

November 26, 1999

Oh, how I treasure my friendship with Wes!

Today, I am especially grateful for our marriage covenants, personal revelation, and the gospel that binds us together.

I am grateful for my husband's kindness to me. He has ALWAYS treated me respectfully. He encourages me and supports me in my aspirations.

Neither of us is perfect and so tonight I am grateful that he has always been the first to apologize- whether or not he is wrong. I am grateful for forgiveness.

I am grateful for the opportunities to grow and mature together as we've recognized the Lord's tender mercies during difficult times.

I am grateful for my husband's faith and his desire to always do Heavenly Father's will, even when that requires some bending on his part.

His desire to understand ME rather than jam me into some preconceived ideal was perhaps one of the things that first drew me to Wes. I am grateful for his devotion to meeting my needs, often at the expense of meeting his own.

I am grateful for the five incredibly special children who have truly blessed our marriage and that everyday they see how much their parents are still completely in love with each other. 

Happy Anniversary, my dear friend, Wes. This Thanksgiving, as always, I am thankful for YOU.

Our Family- Imperfect and Incomplete

I didn't intend to share this on my blog--it's kind of personal. And really personal stuff I save for my journal. But when I read it to Wes, he encouraged me to post it. I was a little surprised by his openness, but perhaps one of my readers will find meaning in my thoughts.

As I hear my friends talking about being "done" with having babies and feeling maxed out in their family size, my own feelings to the contrary stand out starkly. Sure, raising a family is hard. Having a large family is exhausting and there are nights I pray for my children to fall asleep a little sooner just so I can breath. But so often I look around and feel our capacity to grow. Wes feels it, too.

How I long to cuddle a newborn skin-to-skin. To feel that special endowment of the spirit we have felt bringing each of our newborns home. I felt it the other day when I brought my friend a meal. She and her family had just welcomed their sixth child into their family and the beautiful spirit in their home--the gentleness, the fullness--was palpable.

But when I think of getting pregnant again, I feel guilty. Pregnancy for our family means losing the watchcare of a mother and companionship of a wife. The hyperemesis that accompanied each of my previous pregnancies made for an incredible burden, both physically and emotionally, on my family. How can we put our family through that again?

Since the first days of our marriage, Wes and I have talked about adoption as a part of our family plan. Lately, we've talked about it a lot more.

But sometimes the magnitude of my flaws as a mother overcome me and I feel unworthy to invite another child into our family. There are times when I see in my mind the disappointed face of a child who discovers who he has for a new mother--someone who sometimes struggles with being tender, who stinks at imaginitive play, and sometimes throws temper tantrums of her own. I don't know how I could bear the regret I might see in those eyes.

And yet I know the best place to raise a child is in a family--even one as far from perfection as our own. 

Getting us all out the door on time sometimes results in tears--and not just from the children. We have a growing problem of bickering among a couple of our children. My fourth child is terrified to wake up without me. Some days there just aren't enough clean plates for dinner and my daughter walks out the door to school in the morning with yesterday's mud on her "cleanest" pair of jeans.

But we kneel in prayer every day as a family.  I read to my children. A LOT. I'm good at that. We eat healthy food. I'm good at that, too. Wes provides well for our family, plays football in the front yard with the boys, and organizes family dance parties in the kitchen. Our children race to the door when they see his car come up the driveway. And they race just as fast across the kitchen to hug and kiss me so early in the morning.

Those are some of the best moments- when I can tell that even my children feel how good it is to be a member of our imperfect family.

For all that is lacking, for all we are working on, there is much we have to give. Financially, it is something we can do. Emotionally, we are all in. But I want it to be right. I've lived enough by the guidance of the Holy Ghost, and sometimes without it, to know that such a major decision is only to be made in the strength of the spirit.

Truth and Tears at Jell-O's funeral

The small pile of dark brown earth stood out among all the deep green foliage.

Tears formed in my eyes. And when they threatened to spill over I fought desperately to discreetly wipe them away. Would my husband ever let me live this down? Crying at the funeral of my children's smelly pet hamster they so classily named Jell-O?

Wasn't it bad enough that we were having a funeral for a rodent?!? And that the melodious strains of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing Consider the Lilies poured forth from my husband's iPhone?

Really???

But I was so touched.

"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:

And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."

The familiar refrain echoed in my thoughts.

Not only did I feel that Heavenly Father created and loved this pitiful little creature, but also that he was keenly aware of each of us standing in that circle.

And that, like Jell-O, we would someday each pass out of mortality.

"But there is a resurrection, therefore the grave hath no victory, and the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ."

As I stood there considering the doctrines of the atonement, the resurrection, and eternal families, the beauty and vastness of the plan of salvation overwhelmed me.

I rejoiced knowing that if circumstances were different, if we were gathered with tear-stained cheeks around one of our own sweet family members, it would not be the end.

A loving Heavenly Father has provided a way that his children may share in his eternal happiness both in this life and the life to come...as families!

With my husband's "amen" my children each tossed their wildflowers on top of the little shoebox. Wes turned to look at me, his face a reflection of my own. The tears rolling down his cheeks revealed our common experience. And we both smiled, then shrugged as if to say to each other, "Really? Here at the funeral of a rodent?!?

Two years have come and gone and the tiny grave remains a hallowed spot in the corner of our property. It serves as a reminder of the truths that the spirit etched into our hearts that day.

Through Christ's atonement there will be a resurrection and families can be together forever.

photo of hamster by turquoise field