Growing Pains

Can I just admit that sometimes being a grown up is hard?  There is so much we are trying to do and decide and process; and the fact that mortality is so beautifully and exhaustingly unpredictable just helps to remind me how little control I have over this life of mine.  Life is good, it really is; but the past few weeks have been too full of emotion to not take a second and admit that growing up is hard to do.

Nearly two weeks ago my sweet grandpa went in for a knee replacement.  The surgery went great, but afterwards the family noticed that grandpa was not acting like himself.  A few eventful days later and we learned that the reason he seemed to be acting odd was due to a stroke he had suffered sometime after surgery.  While we are all very grateful for the lack of physical impairment he has experienced, the majority of his side effects can be found in his emotional and cognitive behaviors.  Because the stroke occurred in his frontal lobe his emotions and ability to process long sentences and certain other things has been impaired.  We are all very hopeful that with therapy he will make a full recovery, but knowing anything has happened at all has been very hard.  I am so blessed to have all of my grandparents still living and in reasonably good health.  I am obviously no stranger to the reality of losing someone you love, and I have always been painfully aware that these people who I love so much won’t always be around.  That knowledge has not made this situation any easier, and it breaks my heart to think my grandpa may never be the same man we all love so much, or that my grandma has had to experience any fear or sadness about this situation.  These two are such an amazing example of loving one another and raising a posterity who does the same.  I have never been in doubt of their love for me or my little family, and I am so grateful for them in my life.

St. Patrick’s Day brought matching green blouses and a little leprechaun fun, but just like every other year it brought my dad’s birthday and the painful reminder that he is not here to celebrate it.  It’s such a bittersweet day- remembering the wonderful life he lived while accepting the fact that it is now over.  And while it can be easy to want to get caught up in the bitter of it all, these girls of mine make it necessary to focus on the sweet.  To talk about his goodness, remember his silliness, and learn from his faithfulness.  In an effort to remember him on that day we decided a little birthday cake was in order, complete with a glowing blue candle and Stella’s favorite “Happy Birthday” song.  Stella asked if Papa Scott would be joining us for dessert that night, and while I wish he was physically with us to share a bite of carrot cake, I am certain he was there feeling the love and enjoying the sweetness of his two beautiful granddaughters.

Lately life with these two crazies has been mostly good, but always a little exhausting.  From never ending sickness to the emotional whiplash that comes from raising a three year-old girl, I am doing my best to find the joy in the simple day to day life we are living.  For me personally it can be emotionally exhausting trying to find the balance of “not missing a moment” and not feeling the need to be doing something or going somewhere 100% of the time.  Eliza is testing her independence on what seems like a minute by minute basis, and Stella is trying to find some emotional ground somewhere between exhilaration and hysteria, as these seem to be her only two levels as of late.  We are are trying to make decisions about which preschool she should attend next year and I am really feeling the pressure.  She is such a social child and wants to go to school so badly that I know sending her somewhere is the right step, I am just not sure what type of environment or how many days will be best for her and our little family.  Time is slipping away too quickly with her, with both of them, really; and I am fighting an inner battle of keeping her to myself and letting her start to learn about this life and this world a little more on her own.  The scary part is that these “tough” decisions are only the beginning to the many that will arise during the course of my parenting career.

Tonight I came across this talk and I was reminded of its truthfulness all over again: I am not really in charge here.  An all-knowing and omnipotent God is guiding my life and the lives of those I love in the direction he wants us to go.  Yes, we all have our agency and I am forever thankful for that; but in the end He is in charge.  He can give and he can most certainly take away.  He can lead us to the people and places that will change us for good and keep us on the path that leads back to him, if we allow him to do so.  Facing disappointments, change, and grief can be hard, really really hard, but it truly is part of the Master’s plan for us.  I am not sure why I seem to keep forgetting this principle, but am grateful for the beautiful reminder I received tonight.

“I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.”…I just want you to know that if you don’t get what you think you ought to get, remember, “God is the gardener here. He knows what he wants you to be.” Submit yourselves to his will. Be worthy of his blessings, and you will get his blessings.” –Hugh B. Brown