Saturday, September 25, 2010

Consider the Lilies

A few mornings ago I woke up with a massive head ache.
My first awaking thought was wondering when this seemingly never ending pregnancy head ache would go away.
When I became more cognizant I realized it was awfully early for a head ache.
They usually don't grace me with their presence until after dinner.
As I made my way to the bathroom the first glimpse of myself in the mirror was considerably more scary than usual.
Was it the hair?
Nope, same frizz as usual.
Was it the pale lips and skin in general?
Nope, Same pallor every morning of my life.
The eyes, it was the eyes.
They were puffy and swollen and I looked awful.
Then I put 2 and 2 together.
The reason for the puffy eyes and throbbing head?
I had literally cried myself to sleep the night before.
There have been a couple of local news stories lately that have really hit me hard.
I don't watch the news, I heard about these from other people.
I'm sure I didn't get all the details, nor do I want them.
It's enough to know that these poor innocent children went through hell on earth.
I don't know if it's the pregnancy hormones or the fact that I have children the same ages as all of the children victums, but these stories have really messed with my head.
It has been a few weeks now and I still can not get them off my mind.
The night that I cried myself to sleep my mind would not stop thinking about those children's moments of suffering and it tore my heart from my chest.
There is so much about this world that I hate.
I hate that children have to suffer.
Then the words to one of my favorite hymns came into my head.

"Consider the sweet tender children who must suffer on this earth.
The pains of all of them He carried from the day of His birth.
He clothes the lilies of the fields.
He feeds the lambs of His fold.
And He will heal those who trust Him.
And make their hearts as gold."

~Consider the Lilies

Suddenly I was picturing those children wrapped in His arms.
The gratitude I felt for my pains that have been healed became palpable.
Two of the children did not survive.
Their last moments on earth were nothing less than horrific.
As I pictured them walking arm in arm with our Savior I felt their burden lift.
The other child survived.
She must live the rest of her life with the wounds and scars of what happened to her.
I pray with all my heart she can find the peace in His love that she needs, that will heal her.

These stories are not unique to my area.
Things like this are happening all over the world these days.
I'm sure you can all think of similar stories from your own local news stations.
The need for our Savior is universal.
He sees the ugliness in the world and we can find refuge from the storm in His loving arms.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

My Mountains

Every week there's a new mountain to move.
Just when I think I have it conquered, it somehow sneaks back in and the next thing you know, there I am moving the veritable same mountain, week after week.
This relentless mountain?
Let's just say it: it's never really DONE.
Because just when you think every stitch is clean and folded and put in its proper place some kids sits in mud or pees their pants or wipes boogers all down their sleeves.
(Kids are disgusting, I'm just sayin.)
Then, magically, the same mountain you just moved starts to reappear.
It's a funny thing, that laundry pile.
I remember when it was just Mr Bird and I and we were expecting Doodle.
I received tons of cute girl baby clothes from family and friends.
Before she was born I'd sit for hours and fold them and imagine my baby in them and place them in the correct drawers or hangers.
Then, when she was born I washed all of her clothes separately with Dreft,
a laundry soap formulated just for baby's super sensitive skin.
I loved folding her cute little clothes and seeing that little pile appear out of seemingly no where.
With each new baby the best part of laundry has been finding the miniature clothes and watching the tiny pile grow.
And for some reason the prospect of another new tiny pile makes laundry almost bearable again.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Showing Up

I keep having these blog posts writing themselves inside my brain.
The problem is that I have not had the energy or desire to sit at the computer and write them.
So there they sit, day after day, in my brain along with the list of chores that need done and the groceries that need bought.
I forgot how much energy it takes to create a new person.
Or maybe I'm older now than I have ever been with any of my other babies and I've become a wimp.
Either way, my whole life feels neglected right now.
Except home school.
That's the one thing that's thriving.
I have plenty of time to be on the couch and read to my children or have them read to me or help with math and writing.
It has been fabulous.
Beano is reading better than ever and is starting to really love it.
He'll bring me his beginning readers and ask to read to me several times a day.
I love it.
But that is not what this post is about.
A few days ago I posted this on facebook:

"Now Hiring: personal chef. 3 week contract (or until the morning sickness passes). I'll pay what I'd normally make doing the same job (nothing). Any takers?"

I meant it as a joke and plus I was bored and wanted comments.
Well, this is one of the comments I got from just about one of the best people that I know.

"Sara, I'm busy tomorrow but I'd be happy to take the dinner shift on Thurs. Just have the ingredients & instructions out for me, I'll be there @5. Also, have you tried ginger or mint? They're tummy settlers, I've heard. Love ya!"

I tried to tell her she did not really need to come make me dinner, but she did.
She showed up on my door step just when she said she would.
She cooked my raw chicken *gag* and we chatted as dinner practically made itself.
After she left I got to thinking about her wonderful act of kindness.
I thought about how many times I've had the thought to do something for someone and I put it off until I forgot I even had the thought in the first place.
But not Cindy the Great.
She showed up.
How great would this world be if we all showed up more often.
How much suffering could we eliminate if we acted on all those little thoughts we have?
Isn't that part of why we're here?
To learn compassion and service and love.
Because can we really love someone until we spend time serving them?
Weather it's making dinner or just two girl friends chatting, it's all in the name of service.
What woman do you know who can be happy and sane without a good gab session every once in a while?
So yes, even a good chat is a form of service in my eyes.
It makes us see that we are not the only ones with pain.
It makes us look outside our ever selfish world and actually see others and their pains and their joys and their trials.

"Have I done any good in the world today?
Have I helped anyone in need?
Have I cheered up the sad or made someone feel glad?
If not I have failed indeed.
Has anyone's burden been lighter today, because I was willing to share?
Have the sick and the weary been helped on their way?
When they needed my help was I there?
Then wake up and do something more
Than dream of your mansion above.
Doing good is a pleasure, a joy beyond measure,
A blessing of duty and love."
Hymn #223

It's time to get our tooshies in gear, including my own (as soon as I feel better!)
The world needs more like you, Cindy!

P.S. the fonts turned out really weird in this post and I don't know how to fix it, so there you go. Weird fonts and all.